Awake In The Dark
by kwater
Summary: The Winchester brothers fight to keep safe the only family they've ever known. This story is a sequal to Thank You, featuring Sara Powers.
1. Chapter 1

Sara went from asleep to awake in an instant. There was no fuzzy in between moment, no struggling to push off the sleep that had gripped her, not for her, never for her. Mothers didn't have that luxury, they didn't have the option of floating up from a deep sleep, instead, they came instantly and completely awake in mere seconds. At least she always had, and it was lucky she did, for it had saved her and those she loved more than once.

Now, here she was, awake in the dark, her every sense focused on figuring out what had awoken her. It was the familiar heartfelt groan that came from the staircase's top step that gave the intruder away. After all, those that lived or frequented the house knew to avoid that step. Despite the torrent of fear that flooded her body, at the thought of an intruder in her house, Sara lay still, balanced on the edge of the king-sized bed as she always slept, when alone.

It was too late to move, too late to hide, let alone grab the shotgun that rested on the top shelf of her closet, it was too late for all of that. Instead, she played possum, unsure of what other choice she had.

"I know you're awake, you're breathing gave you away." The deep, smooth voice gave Sara no clue as to who she was dealing with. "You need to sit up nice and slowly, don't do anything stupid, or I promise, you'll regret it." The tone of his voice, not to mention the sound of a gun being cocked, told Sara her mystery man meant it.

As she pushed herself upright, panic threatened to overwhelm her. The only thing that allowed her to remain calm was fear for her children and anger toward the man that held her at gunpoint. Unable to see clearly, Sara reached out a hand, scrambling, for the glasses that always sat on her nightstand.

"Stop," the command was harsh and loaded with menace.

Sara ignored it. Instinctively, she knew this man, whoever he was, wanted something from her and would keep her alive as long as it took to get it. "I'm just reaching for my glasses. I can't see without them." As she picked up her glasses and put them on, she felt a small measure of relief slip into her as the room slid into focus. For better or worse, she would much rather face her enemy head on, rather than allow her imagination to drown her.

Sara sat up and slid her legs over the edge of the bed, her gaze focused on the man that stood before her, pointing a a silver plated .45 at her head. He was dressed in a plaid flannel shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and a pair of jeans. Slim and of medium height, the black man had a confidence that she had seen in a select few.

"Who are you, what do you want?" She questioned, careful to allow none of the emotion she felt to color her voice. The man held all the cards, and to Sara there was no point in pissing him off until she knew what he wanted.

"Who I am doesn't matter. As for what I want, well, we'll get to that soon enough. At the moment," said the intruder, as he flicked on the bedside lamp. "I need to know where the kiddies are?"

The warm glow of the lamp, caused Sara to squint for a moment, waiting for her eyes to adjust, she debated telling the truth. "At my mother's, they spend almost every Saturday night there."

"Good answer," was the whispered reply. The man leaned over her, the faint smell of alcohol, in no way led her to believe he was drunk. Grasping her chin, he smiled a smile that never reached his eyes. "I know you, I know more about you than you can possibly imagine. You'd do well to remember that."

Sara tugged her chin free and bared her teeth. "Why don't you play your mind games with someone who gives a fuck. You asked a question, I answered it, now, who are you?"

"Name's Gordon Walker, ring a bell?" Gordon stared at her, as if expecting her to know who he was.

Sara was at a loss, the name meant nothing to her. "Well that's great, you mind telling me what the hell you're doing here?" she asked dryly, careful to keep her voice level.

"Naw, what I want is for you to get up, we've got a couple things to take care of and I don't want to do it here." Gordon's eyes raked her up and down, taking in the oversized, grey long sleeved shirt she slept in. "I have to say, I am a bit confused. You are so not what I expected."

Sara flinched from Gordon's once over, as she hadn't from the gun he waved in her face. Swallowing, she stood with a bravado she didn't feel. "Listen, enough with the cryptic. Can we just get on with whatever you plan to do?"

With a wide smile and a wink, the man shrugged, and said, "No problem, I just thought you might like a little foreplay." The smile dropped off his face. His eyes burning with intensity, he gestured toward her with the gun. "Strip, now. I want to see everything."

Sara paled, this she hadn't expected. For some reason it had never occurred to her that whatever this man wanted, it was sexual in nature. Shaking her head, she hugged herself. "No way, I'm fine."

In an instant, he grabbed hold of her arm, and tossed her up against the wall. His lightening fast reflexes scared her more than anything else. Well, at least until he brought the other arm up and pressed the gun to her cheek.

"Strip, now," he breathed.

Sara, hands shaking, reached down and gathered the hem of her shirt in her hands. As she lifted the shirt off in one fell swoop, she tried to focus on the man in front of her, rather than the cool night air that whispered over her nearly naked body. She gripped the shirt in her hand, refusing to be parted with it completely, as his eyes swept over her body, clad in only a pair of blue cotton panties.

"Again, so not what I expected, I mean you're not bad you know. 35 years old, three brats, not bad at all. I still can't figure you for keeping Winchester on his toes, especially not in a cotton panties and a ratty old shirt." The man growled, shoving her toward the low oak dresser that stood on the other wall. "Get dressed, now. I've got things to do before he gets here."

Sara stood, her back to the man, Dean's shirt still gripped in her hand. Swallowing tears, she forced back the fear that threatened to overwhelm her at Gordon's words. Dean, damn he was here for Dean. Her only consolation was the older Winchester was far away and not due back anytime soon. As she forced her shaking hands to open the drawers, she couldn't help the silent prayer, she sent to a God she no longer believed in.

888

"Dean, your phone's ringing, come on, Man, answer it."

At the sound of his brother's voice, Dean fought the sleep that gripped him tight. He reached out and fumbled at his bedside, searching for the phone he could now hear. A mumbled, "Hello," was the best he could manage. Considering it was two o'clock in the morning and he'd just driven nearly 15 hours straight, Dean figured it was enough.

"Dean?" the shaky voice that whispered his name sent a bolt of fear straight to his heart.

Dean got to his feet and looked toward Sam. Without a word spoken between them, Sam was up and out of bed, already beginning to dress. "What's wrong, Kiddo?" Dean asked. He tried to keep the fear from his voice, but wasn't sure he managed.

"Something's in the house. I don't know what it is." Fear and an overwhelming sound of panic infused every word. "I think it's got mom." These last words were spoken so softly, Dean, who had the phone pressed against his ear, nearly missed them.

"Jimmy, where are you?" he asked, as he watched Sam gather their belongings. As he tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, he began to drag on a pair of crumpled jeans he had snagged off the floor.

"Mikey, Jess and I are in the cubby. Dean, I don't know what to do?" The pleading quality in the small voice nearly brought tears to Dean's eyes.

"Just stay put and stay quiet. No matter what you hear, promise me you'll stay in that cubby. I'm coming to get you. Do you understand me? I'm on my way right now." Dean waited for the promise as he watched Sam make a last trip out to the car.

"I promise, Dean,"

He could hear a measure of relief in the voice, he only hoped he could live up to all it implied. "Good, I'm on my way. Do you hear me, Sam and I are on our way." Dean snagged up the shirt that Sam had left out and his coat. He left the motel room at a run, barely noticing the sharp rocks that tore at the soles of his feet.

"Please hurry, Dean. I'm scared."

"I'm already on my way, just hold on." Dean slammed the phone shut and tossed it to Sam, grabbing the keys that Sam threw to him in exchange. Not bothering with the shoes that Sam slid across the big bench seat, he started the car, threw it into gear and sped out onto the highway.

888

Sam glanced over at his brother once more. Although, Dean hadn't given him the details, his brother's pale face and burning eyes, coupled with the cell phone's caller id was enough to tell Sam that things were bad. So bad, he couldn't bear to question his brother, he was too afraid of the response he'd get. In fact, the only words he managed in the first two and half hours were to point out that they were low on gas.

"Fucking Car," Dean cursed, as he brought the big black car to a halt at the first gas station they passed.

Sam never hesitated, before the car ground to a halt he was out and heading toward the pump. He quickly set the pump and moved toward Dean's window.

His brother sat leaning forward, his head resting against the steering wheel, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Sam shoved the panic that fluttered in his own chest down and tapped on the window. "Dean, shoes."

Sam let loose his own curse as Dean lifted his head and faced Sam through the window. Dean seemed to have aged ten years since the call came. His shadowed eyes were red-rimmed, his full lips were drawn tight in pain, and his skin was so white his freckles stood out in stark relief. He looked devastated.

Dean cleared his throat as he rolled down the window. "We ready?"

Sam shook his head. "Soon, she's almost full. Dean, you need to put on your shoes."

Dean seemed surprised as he glanced down at his bare feet. At last, just as Sam was about to open the car door, Dean gathered up his shoes and socks, and began to put them on.

Sam heard the pump shut off, thankful that they were fully automated. He quickly replaced the pump and moved to get back into the car. Calling himself a cowered, his only words were, "Ready to go."

Fifteen minutes later, Sam knew he could no longer delay, they were only a half-hour from their destination. If he was going to be any help at all, he needed to know what was going on. Afraid of his brother's response, Sam finally asked, "What's going on, Dean?"

Dean's hard gaze never moved from the road before them. "Something's in the house."

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, he'd known that whatever was wrong had to be bad, but he'd hoped it wouldn't be that bad. "Damn it," he whispered, putting more force into his next words, he asked, "Who called?"

Dean flinched, drawing a breath, he answered, "It was Jim. He called from the cubby hole, he took the kids up to the attic when he heard something moving about the house."

Sam, unable to pull his gaze from his brother's white knuckled grip of the steering wheel, almost wished Dean would just stop talking now. Instead his brother continued.

"He said...he said something had Sara."

In that moment, Sam's carefully honed faith deserted him. He just didn't understand how one family, one that had already lost so much, could bare to lose anymore. "Did he say what it was?" Sam asked, not even really caring. After all, whatever it was had just signed its own death warrant.

Dean shook his head, no. Sam realized that his brother was, for the moment, incapable of doing anything other than driving. Unable to remain useless, while the lives of people he loved were once again in danger, Sam began to work the problem.

First things first, he thought, as he began dialing Bobby's number. Knowing that Dean would agree, Sam simply said, "I'm gonna let Bobby know." After he left a message for the older hunter, he put voice to the question that had been nagging him.

"How did something manage to get inside, I mean that house is a fortress." Sam, his stomach roiling with fear, began to list the protection against the supernatural that was in place. "I mean sure salt lines can be destroyed, but the protection symbols, there's no way anything's getting past them."

Dean shook his head. "Don't know."

Sam kept worrying what little information they had. "Jim said they were in the cubby. So they must have gone up through the babies room."

"Seems like."

Sam worried at his fingernails, biting them closer in frustration. "Okay, so we know that at least, they're safe for the moment. I mean there's little reason for anything to go into the attic. And I helped the boys set the space up, they're safe there at least."

Dean swallowed audibly. "Against the supernatural they are."

Sam felt bile rise in the back of his throat, as he considered Dean's words. His brother was right, the house was like a fortress against the supernatural, against human, it was no more than adequate. "Shit," Sam exclaimed.

"Yup."


	2. Chapter 2

Sara sat at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee set near her shaking hands. Though, she tried to still their trembling, she found it nearly impossible to stop it completely. The man named Gordon stood before her, his focus on the back kitchen window. After a few moments, he turned and pierced her where she stood with his black-eyed gaze.

"We're going to play twenty questions, and when we're done, you and I are going to make a phone call. Do you understand?"

Sara stared at the man, forcing a bravado she really didn't feel. "Why would I help you do anything other than get the hell out of my house?"

With no warning, Gordon backhanded Sara. The blow caught her off guard, knocking her off the chair. As she lay on the floor, blood running down her chin from where he'd split her lip, she found herself hating someone for the first time in her life. She now realized that using the word wasn't the same as feeling the word, in that one blow, Sara felt the words.

A glance at his expression showed that he viewed her as nothing, less than nothing. Good, thought Sara, the more he underestimated her the better off she would be. She raked a sleeve across her mouth, swiping ineffectually at the blood that flowed down her chin. Blinking back tears of impotent rage, and fear for her life and those she loved, Sara stood and moved to the sink. She grabbed a paper towel and pressed it against her lip. It took only a moment for the bleeding to stop, trying to ignore the swelling of her lip, she sat back down at the table and began to sop up the coffee she'd spilt.

"Now, are you ready to talk?" Gordon asked. Assuming his authority had been accepted, he turned toward the window, once again, showing her his back.

Sara raged, every bit of anger and emotional strain she'd been under for the last hour threatened to break through, as she watched the smug bastard turn away as if she were no threat. Sara nearly leapt from her place at the table, it was only the thought of her children holed up somewhere in the house that stopped her.

Sara pressed the palm of her hand against her lip, for a moment, wincing at the pain. "What do you want to know?" She nearly choked on the words as the bastard turned to face her, his face expressionless.

"When was the last time Winchester was in town and when do you expect him next?" Gordon questioned.

Sara carefully considered her answer, her first instinct was to lie no matter the question. Now though, she wondered if she wouldn't be better off sticking to the truth when possible. "Two weeks ago, I don't expect him to be back for another week at least."

"Good, that's what I heard." The man leaned against the sink, his gun only inches from his hand. Sipping his own cup of coffee, he asked, "Where's the dog. I was expecting a dog.?"

Sara answered without hesitation, "Dead, he died a little over four days ago. He was hit by a car up by the road."

"Really, dead. I was all over this property, didn't see a grave." Gordon's gaze pinned Sara where she sat.

Sara allowed her emotions free reign for the moment, her eyes quickly filled with tears. "He was over one hundred and ninety pounds, you don't just dig a grave for something that big. We had him cremated." Sara narrowed her eyes and questioned, "How do you know so much about me?"

The man snorted in feigned amusement. "You really ought to be more careful who you let into your life. You're old pal Brian, from the garage? He's a bit of a soft touch. I bought him a couple drinks, asked a few questions and he was more than happy to drone on about you and your life. I can tell you that man's head over heels in love with you. You should have done the smart thing and stuck with him, would have saved yourself a lot of trouble."

Sara shook her head, her face a study in confusion. "I don't understand, why do you care about me, my family, Dean?"

Gordon was in front of her in an instant. Towering over her, he leaned forward grasping the chair in either hand, his face only inches from her own. "You gonna sit there and pretend you don't know. Pretend you have no idea what type of men Winchester and his brother are?"

Sara stuttered, her own fear lending weight to her words. "Dean and Sam are friends of mine, Dean's a mechanic. I don't understand, what do you mean, what they are?"

Gordon's breath fanned her cheek as his gaze bore into her own, finally, he shrugged and pulled back. "Makes no difference whether or not your lying, they're still going to die."

"Now, we're going to make a phone call, you will say only what I want you to say. If you can't manage that, tell me now. I sure as hell wouldn't want to have to mess that pretty face up, any worse than it already is, simply because you refused to play by the rules." Gordon's harsh words were backed by the calm façade he wore.

Sara shrugged, her gesture masking the fear that gripped her. "I'm not making any promises."

Gordon nodded. "Fine, just remember I warned you." Gordon picked up Sara's cell phone that had been lying on the table. It took only a moment for him to thumb through the contacts, finally stopping on a pic of the Impala. "Isn't that sweet, there's Dean's baby. Who knows maybe after I kill both him and his brother I'll keep the car for myself. Gotta love a Chevy. Now, how about we wake up your sweetheart, he's gonna be thrilled to hear from me."

Sara did nothing for a moment, simply stared at the man that held the phone out to her. He may have all the power at the moment, but that didn't mean she would make things easier for him.

Gordon stared at her for a moment before casually reaching for his gun. As he pressed the barrel against her temple, he said, "Hey, if you don't want to help. I'm not going to force you." Cocking the gun, he laughed, "But, if you don't help then you really are of no use to me."

Sara reached out and took the phone, as she pressed send she was wracked with guilt. Part of her wished desperately that Dean wouldn't answer. She wanted no more than to keep him and Sam safe despite the threat to her own life.

The other part of her wished desperately for Dean and Sam to play the white nights, to come charging down her drive to rescue her and the kids. Her kids, Oh God, Sara thought to herself, her calm façade nearly shattering. She could only hope that her children were in fact, holed up in the attic, hiding in the playhouse that Sam had made them.

888

"Did you see anything?" Sam's posture echoed the fear in his voice. His entire six foot four inch frame was drawn taunt, his eyes focused on the house that was a barely visible shadow at the base of the winding driveway.

Dean shook his head as he made his way toward his brother, jogging the few feet that separated them. "Kitchen and her bedroom lights are on, other than that everything looks fine." Dean jogged past Sam, headed for the road that lay behind them and the Impala that sat in a neighboring drive. Intent on gathering any supplies they might need, Dean moved like a shadow, his brother nothing more than a faint outline beside him.

His phone, set to vibrate, began to buzz as he reached the car. Dean didn't know if he should feel relieved or even more scared as he noted Sara's name in the caller ID. Unsure of what to expect, Dean answered hesitatingly, "Sara?"

"Hey, Dean, remember me?"

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, turning he faced Sara's house once more. Gordon Walker's soft, easy speech rolled over Dean with all the force of a tank. Not wanting to give Gordon any more of an upper hand than he already had, Dean strove to make his voice light. "Gordon, I gotta say this is a surprise. I figured you'd be too busy making new friends to keep in touch. Did you get the fruitcake I sent?"

Gordon's low chuckle did nothing to ease the panic that threatened to overwhelm Dean. "Yeah, now that was funny. I have to say I loved the plastic file that was inside." Gordon's monotonous voice gave no hint of what he was feeling.

Unfortunately, Dean didn't need to see or hear Gordon to know just what the hunter was feeling. He was pissed, probably beyond pissed, if Dean were honest with himself. After all, in the two encounters he'd had with the Winchesters he'd come out on the bottom both times.

The first time, the brothers had not only managed to hide and protect a group of vampires Walker was hunting. They'd also left him tied to a chair for three days. Three days sitting in your own mess wasn't something that was quickly forgotten or forgiven.

Their second encounter hadn't worked out nearly so well for Gordon. Although, in retrospect, Dean figured Gordon should have been happy to face jail time, the alternative being a bullet to the brain, courtesy of Dean.

Standing here now, knowing that Gordon held Sara hostage made Dean regret that one small mercy. Dean clenched his jaw, not again, he vowed to himself. Gordon wouldn't be walking away this time. "Let's hear it, Gordon, what harebrained idea are you working today?"

"What do I want Dean, come on, you know what I want. I have a hunt to finish and I intend to finish it now. "

"Sam," Dean breathed softly.

"Sam, that's right. Sam and every other psychic like him." Gordon paused for a moment, "well that, and also I owe you a bit of payback. I'm going to kill you, your brother and this sweet little lady sitting by my side. I tried to give you an out once, Dean, but you chose to side with that freak brother of yours. It's always so nice when revenge and a hunt go hand in hand."

Dean stared hard at the house nestled below, it had become a haven for the Winchesters. It was in that house, the brothers had learned to let their guards down. It was in that house, Sam found the normal he'd been searching all his life, well, Dean reasoned, at least as normal as they would ever find. And, it was in that house Dean finally realized what it was to be loved solely for himself, rather than as an instrument of war or a protector.

Vowing to protect the ones he loved, Dean asked, "So what, we're gonna have a stand off, an exchange? Sam for Sara and her kids?" Dean asked, trying and failing to stay calm.

Gordon's laugh was soft and sinister. "A trade, are you kidding me? No, I don't want to trade. What I want is for you to come get her. I wanna see if you and little Sammy have the stones."

As realization dawned, Dean smiled grimly and jeered, "You couldn't find us, could you.? The great uber tracker couldn't manage to find lowly little us. So what'd you do? You had to go and bring an innocent into it. I guess it's a good thing my granny's dead already, else you would have held the little grey-haired, afghan weaving lady at gun point."

Dean unable to hold back the words continued, "You talk and talk about the job, about our responsibility as hunters, but you don't get it. Our job, our most important job, is to save innocent people from monsters." Dean paused, his anger pulsing through him, "And in case you didn't realize it, you're the monster this time, Gordon, and my job, well my job's to kill monsters. I'm coming for you, Gordon. You got what you wanted. I'm on my way." Dean waited with bated breath.

888

The tears that Sara had struggled against began to flow unchecked down her cheeks at Dean's words. As she sat and listened to the two hunters bait each other, she'd taken courage from Dean's voice. Though she wasn't sure what the history between the hunters was, she was sure before this ended, someone would wind up dead. Starting right now, Sara intended to do everything she could to ensure that someone would be Gordon Walker.

Gordon standing only a foot away with her cell phone gripped tightly in his hand, snarled, "Are you done spouting off, cause, I've got a pretty scared little woman that would prefer for us to get on with things."

Sara had come to know Dean well in their time together, when he spoke she could hear the tinge of panic that edged his voice. Not bothering to wait for Gordon's permission, Sara called out, "I'm okay, Dean."

Gordon's hand was a blur. One moment Sara was sitting at the table, and the next she was on the floor once again. Shaking her head to clear her vision, she frantically searched the floor, looking for her glasses that had flown off. As she found and slid them on the kitchen tile floor came into sharp relief. Unable to stand for a moment, she wearily took note of the blood that was pouring from her nose. Her only thought, the fact that the blood would stain the beautiful buff colored tiles.

After a moment, Gordon grabbed her arm and drew her roughly to her feet. Shoving her into the chair once more, he threw a handful of napkins to her, his face set in grim lines as he returned his attention to the phone once more.

"Sara, answer me, Sara. Damnit Gordon, don't you touch her. I'll kill you, do you hear me don't you touch her."

Sara sat, napkins in hand trying to staunch the flow of blood that poured from her nose. The pain she felt didn't compare to the pain that filled her heart at the fear she could hear in Dean's voice. Longing to reassure him, she instead sat loathing the man that now paced her kitchen.

"Let me talk to her. Now."

"You're gonna have to get ahold of yourself, Dean. She's fine, nothing a good ear, nose and throat specialist can't fix. I have you on speakerphone, she can hear everything you're saying. Though, if I was her, I'd be a bit pissed. After all, I woke her up from a nice deep sleep." Gordon's voice was low and controlled, he could have been speaking about the weather as easily as the woman he held captive.

"She is one tempting bit. When I found her in bed, she looked so content, so innocent. I can see why you dig her man, really. And her body, can I say, wow. That mole just under her left breast, hmm...she's a tempting bit alright."

Dean swallowed audibly, the visual picture that Gordon painted enough to make the bile rise up in his throat. Ignoring Walker's insinuations completely, Dean spoke to Sara directly, "Sara, you okay?" Dean waited, the phone held slightly away from him so that Sam would be able to hear.

"I'm fine, Dean," Sara answered, her voice wet from the blood that still drained down her throat. "I'm sorry, I never thought..." Sara's voice trailed off as she struggled to find the words.

"Don't you say that, you hear me, Sara, don't you say you're sorry. It's me, it's always me. I'm the one that brought this down on you." Dean's words ground to a halt and for a moment Sara was afraid the connection had been cut off.

"Are the kids okay?" Dean asked.

Sara found herself nodding without even thinking, Dean would find out soon enough, she figured, there was no reason to risk Gordon finding out the truth. "Yeah, you know Saturday night, Dean. They're with my folks."

"Good, I'm coming, Sara. I'll be there just as soon as I can."

Dean's words bit deep, she so wanted him to be there, and yet that was tantamount to a death wish for him. "Dean..."

Dean's voice, harsh with anger once more, interrupted her, "Don't you dare, don't you tell me not to come, Sara. I'm coming to get you, do you understand?"

"He says you have three hours to get here, Dean, you and Sam. He's going to kill you, or well at least he thinks he is."

At her words, Gordon kicked out, knocking the chair she sat on upon to the ground, tumbling Sara once more onto the floor. This time Sara didn't even bother to get back up, she simply crawled toward the wall. Once there she shifted around until she sat, back against the wall, her knees drawn to her chest.

"Did you get all that, Winchester, you've got three hours, and I expect to see that big black car rolling down the drive." Gordon snapped the phone shut effectively cutting off Dean's voice.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam watched his brother. Dean stood, head hanging, phone loose in his hand. He held his body so stiffly it was a wonder he didn't shatter. Sam knew exactly what was raging through his brother's mind. He was thinking that he had brought this down on Sara. That he was the reason Gordon had gone for her. That if it wasn't for Dean, she'd probably be picking out china patterns as she at last accepted Brian's proposal.

"Don't do this, Dean, not now, not here. Don't waste time blaming yourself."

Dean looked over at Sam, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy. "Don't blame myself, Sam. I led a killer to her family, to her house, Sam. He was in her bedroom, he put his hands on her. I did that."

Sam searched for the words that would make Dean realize none of this was his fault. After all, Sara, of all people, knew what their lives entailed. She'd pushed and cajoled her way into their lives with a full understanding of what they were. "She knew what she was getting into, Dean. She knew and she chose you anyway. We're going to save her and then we'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

Dean stirred at Sam's last words. "Yeah, that's what we'll do. We'll make sure it never happens again. We'll make sure she stays safe this time. Come on, Sammy, we've got work to do."

Dean turned from Sam, and broke into a trot, closing the distance between himself and the Impala. Within minutes, the trunk was open, and he was throwing their gear into a waiting backpack. Sam knew that Dean's mind was made up and rather than fight him, he figured he'd leave it up to Sara to talk sense into his stubborn ass brother.

"Do you have a plan? Or are we just winging it?" Sam asked, as he moved up beside him and began gathering his own weapons and tools.

"I got a plan. Plan is you stay here. I don't want you any where near that house." Dean, tucked his pistol into the waistband of his jeans, and then gathered up his bag.

"Dean, that's not funny, you're not going into that house without me." Sam stood firm, his gaze focused on his brother.

Dean nodded for a moment, before he slammed the trunk lid shut. "Can't let you do it, Sam. We have to get the kids out. What'll happen if we both go in and get caught? Who's left to save them then? No, you wait here. Try and find Bobby and I'll have the kids out in no time."

Sam wanted to explode with frustration, instead, he backed up a step and dropped his bag on the trunk of the car. Dean was right, they couldn't both go into the house. "Fine, but I'm telling you, now. If you don't come out, I'm coming in after you. I don't care what you say."

Sam could see Dean struggling to find a way to keep him safe and out of this mess. Finally, realizing that he had no other choice, Dean nodded. "Give me an hour. I'll be out with the kids in an hour."

"Alright, one hour, in the meantime I'll see what I can do to find Bobby." Sam watched Dean take off toward the woods, and wondered how Dean planned to get in.

After all, he knew with the sun up, Dean would have no cover once he was within 100 feet of the house. When building and designing the house, Sara had cleared a perimeter around the house, making it so nothing could sneak up undetected. At least that had been the plan, now with Gordon in the house, Sam guessed it hadn't been the deterrent she'd hoped. Keeping his eyes focused on the house, Sam set about trying to find Bobby.

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As he called the older hunter once more, his mind went to the children now trapped inside the big house. Sara's kids, Jim with his sandy hair, big brown eyes and bright smile, Michael, thin and dark, his bright blue eyes always shinning with laughter, and little Jess, a little blond dynamo, with her total and absolute crush on Dean. Like their mother, all three were in a constant state of motion, always moving from one project to the next. Hiking, biking, swimming, sports you name it and the Powers enjoyed it.

No one knew that better than Sam did. During one of their visits, they'd found Sara and the kids climbing the walls, due to forced inactivity. A solid week of rain had prevented the normally active kids from running out their energy outside. Dean had been inside the house only moments, before he'd announced that he was taking Sara out for a breather. The normally patient Sara, at her wits end from dealing with three bundles of boundless energy, had quickly jumped on the idea.

Sam wasn't sure how it had happened but he'd found himself left in charge of three kids under the age of 7, one of whom was 'pretty much' potty-trained, and a rainy Saturday afternoon. At first, he'd tried everything, puzzles, reading, video games you name it, he played it. Anything to try and entice the three normally well-behaved kids to stop arguing.

As he stood in desperation, longing for Dean and his firm no-nonsense attitude, he decided to take the kids on an 'exploration'. Grabbing flashlights, bottled water, an array of snacks, Jess' wubby and Mike's ever present array of stuffed animals, they'd turned off all the house lights and proceeded to explore the house. Winding their way through the shadow-ridden rooms, Sam had weaved a tale of lost artifacts, mummies, and anything else he could think up.

At long last, they'd ended up in a dim corner of Sara's walk-up attic, Throwing down some old blankets, he found in a Tupperware box, Sam quickly made up a nest for the baby. In moments, worn out from the 'journey', she'd fallen asleep. Not wanting to disturb her, and really not able to keep up with her anymore, Sam had left her to sleep.

"So, what now guys? We could bring a game up here and play?" Sam asked the two boys, both of whom were wide-awake and still raring to go.

Mike shook his head. "I don't wanna play a game. Jimmy always wants to play monopoly and I hate monopoly."

"Okay, so no games." Sam wracked his brain trying to figure out something that would keep a six and seven year old occupied. Something that wouldn't involve the emergency room. Sifting through memories, he tried to remember things Dean had done when trying to keep a much younger and energetic Sam quiet and calm. His respect for his older brother grew as he remembered the countless hours spent in the Impala while their dad conducted the business of hunting.

That's when he remembered. Unable to hide his smile, he asked the boys, "Have you ever built a fort?"

Jim, always one for the dramatic, rolled his eyes. "Of course, we've got one in woods, Mom helped us build it. But it's raining we can't go outside."

Sam's smile grew even more. "Yup, it's raining alright, but that doesn't have to stop us. We'll build one right here, in the attic. That way whenever you want, you can come up and play in it."

Both boys jumped on the idea. Sam barked out orders sending them scurrying to all corners of the house to gather the needed supplies. As the afternoon carried on, Sam and the boys and even Jessie slowly but surely built their fort in the far corner of the attic.

Sam had used the corner of the house for two of the walls, and had then stood an unused mattress in place on the third side. Leaving only a small space for an entrance, he'd then packed row upon row of boxes on the fourth side, effectively creating a small square room. Then, the kids had set about filling the room, with beanbag chairs, toys, and even a tiny lamp that had once sat in the foyer. All in all, they'd created a space that was not only nearly invisible in the jumbled attic but also stocked with everything they loved.

"Sam, colurs, please." Jess had been allowed to bring her chalk up to the attic and was now decorating the wooden beams and floorboards with a variety of colors.

"Sure, Chicky." As he accepted the chalk, he sent a heartfelt prayer to God that Sara wouldn't kill him for allowing the child to chalk on every surface in the attic. At a loss as to what to draw he waited for inspiration to strike. Finally, he began drawing protection symbols on the surfaces surrounding the fort.

At long last Sara and Dean had returned, both looking better from some time alone. The kids, full of excitement, had proudly showed off their fort. Ever since then, the kids had spent countless hours in their 'cubby'.

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Sam's thoughts were pulled from that rainy day by the low rumble of an engine. Tearing his gaze from the house below, he turned to find Bobby's battered blue pick up, cruising down the street. Relief flooded him as he gestured Bobby to park next to the black car.

"Thank God, Bobby. How'd you get here so soon?" Sam reached out, shaking hands with the grizzled hunter as he climbed out of the cab of his truck.

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Bobby rubbed a tired hand across his face, scratching idly at his beard. "Was only a couple hours out, I came as soon as I heard your message. What the hell's going on, Sam?"

Bobby's eyes came together in a frown as he took in the sorry picture Sam made. The younger man's shadowed eyes and drawn features were reason enough for Bobby's worry to increase, but it was the way his eyes kept shifting to the house below that really set off alarms. "What is it, Sam?"

"We didn't mean to lead him here, Bobby. He's supposed to still be in jail, I...I don't even know how he found her," Sam's voice trailed off as he again shifted his gaze to the house.

Bobby reached out and clapped the young man on the shoulder. "Sam, come on kid, what's going on? Led who here? What's in the house, Sam?"

Bobby watched as the last bit of color in Sam's face drained out. "Gordon Walker, Bobby. He snuck in last night and he's taken Sara hostage. He says he's going to kill her, he's just waiting till Dean and I get there."

"Shit," the older hunter breathed. He worked hard to keep the panic at bay, after all he was sure the brothers were panicking enough for all of them. "Alright, Sam, just calm down and tell me what you know. The kids aren't here right, it's Saturday, they're at Sara's parents right?"

Sam's eyes flickered toward the house once more. "No, Bobby, they're in there."

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"Jimmy, I'm thirsty," Michael whispered.

"I'm firsty, I mant mater, pease, Dimmy." Jess's little voice was high-pitched and much too loud in the quiet attic space.

Jim quickly reached out, putting a hand over Jess's mouth, he whispered, "Shh...remember, Jess, we're hiding. You have to be quiet. I have a little water left, you can have a bit." Jimmy carefully unscrewed the top from the water bottle he held, and tipped it toward his little sister's open mouth. Not allowing her to drink too much, he pulled the bottle back out of her sturdy, grasping hands. "We have to save some, Baby. You can't drink it all."

Jess grinned in the dim light and clapped her hands. "Mikey's turn, Dimmy. Mikey, mants mater."

"I know, Jess, I'm going to give him some." Jim held the bottle out to Michael, it held so little water there was really no point in keeping Mike from finishing it. "Here, Mike, you can have the rest."

Michael sat forward a bit, grasping the bottle, he quickly downed the last of the water. "Jimmy, how long till Dean and Sam get here?"

Jim peaked once more toward the attic window. Once the sun had risen, he'd been sure, Dean and Sam wouldn't be far behind. Now though, it'd been up for a while and there'd been no sign of the two men. "Soon, Mikey."

Mike settled back down on the old carpet that covered the wood floor. "Good, cause I'm scared," he whispered in reply, before picking up the game he'd been playing with Jess. "Come on, Jess, we have to get Megatron, before he gets the all-spark."

Jim, watched as Jess dropped down beside Michael and was soon lost in the world of Transformers, he had created. Jim sat near the opening of the fort, his back leaning against a plastic box, his eyes focused on the attic staircase. Forcing himself to stay awake, he thought back to the moment he had realized someone was in the house.

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He'd woken up to go pee, after taking a moment to untangle himself from Michael's grasping arms, he'd headed for the bathroom. Once there, he'd quickly gone pee and was getting a drink of water when he'd heard a noise from downstairs. At first, he'd assumed it was his mom, he knew that she was often up late at night. As he moved down the steps, careful to avoid the squeaker as Michael called it, he headed for his mom's office. He was confident that's where she'd be, he knew she liked to write at night when things were quiet.

But, as Jim had turned the corner, intending to head for the office, he'd seen a dark shape slink across the hall and into the office. He never hesitated, turning tail he headed back up the steps, fast as a rabbit. Into his room he went, streaking to his brother's side, he shook Michael awake. "Mikey, something's in the house, wake up."

Mike was wide-awake and shaking in moments. "What's the matter, Jim? Where's mom?"

Jim shook his head, motioning Michael to follow. Careful to make no noise, Jim headed toward the door. Peaking around the corner, he grasped Mike's hand and darted across the hall and into Jess' room. Easing the door closed behind him and Mike, he moved toward the crib. He didn't want to risk Jess crying out so he carefully pulled her favorite blanket and her wubby from the crib and handed them to Michael. Then he dropped the side of the crib, nearly crying out at the squeal the bed made. "Jess, come on Jess. You have to wake up, it's time to get up," Jim whispered, as he picked his little sister up.

Not bothering to wait for her to wake up all the way, Jim tucked her against him and followed Mike through the door that led to the attic. His mom was always complaining that the attic entrance was in Jess' room, but Jim figured this time it was a good thing. As he struggled with Jess' heavy form, he hurried up the stairs behind Michael and followed his brother into the cubby. Jim and Mike had gotten Jess settled and she'd quickly drifted back off to sleep.

"It's a robber isn't it?" Michael whispered, as he scooted next to Jim.

Jim didn't know, all he knew was that something was wrong or his mom would have come for them. "I don't know. We have to wait, she'll come."

"No," Mike replied, his dark brows drawing down over his blue eyes. "We have to call Dean, he'll come, him and Sam."

Jim stared at his younger brother, Mikey was looking at him with what their mom referred to as his 'angry eyes'. It meant, his brother was determined to get his way and short of sitting on him and having him scream down the house, there was nothing to do but let him have his way. Problem was, they had no phone, so really calling Dean was out.

"Mike, we don't have a phone."

"You know the number, I can get a phone. I'll just sneak downstairs and get the one in mom's room." Mike replied already moving for the attic stairs.

Jim reached out and snagged his hand. "You can't go downstairs, you don't know what's going on."

Mike shook loose and kept going. "I'll be right back."

Raising his voice a bit, Jim called to his younger brother, "Mike no, don't." But, Mike never hesitated. Afraid to leave the baby, Jim slinked back inside the cubby.

Jim had waited, his heart pounding, his hand resting lightly on the baby's back for what seemed forever. The sound of the attic door opening and then closing, made Jim pull back in terror, certain that whatever was in the house had found Mike and was coming to find him and Jess.

Instead, Michael called out in a whisper, "I got it Jim, do you remember the number?"

Jim breathed a sigh of relief, pulling his brother toward him, he grabbed the phone and Mike. "Yeah, I remember it." A moment later, Jim had dialed and was waiting for Dean to pick up, his every hope riding on Dean to help them.

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Now here they sat hours later, still waiting. Jim was starting to fear that something bad had happened not only to their mom but to Dean and Sam as well.

"They'll be here soon, Jim. Sam and Dean are heroes, they'll save us."

Jim looked over at Michael's too pale face and nodded. "I know, Mike." Jim's gaze went back toward the attic steps, as he settled himself to waiting once again, he couldn't help but hope his mom was alright.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean ignored the branches that pulled at his clothes and scratched his skin as he forced his way through the thick Pennsylvania woods. One hour, was the thought that kept him moving despite the fear of what he'd find. Fear, Dean snorted to himself, fear didn't adequately describe what he was feeling, terror, maybe. Even that word fell short. Hell, if he was honest with himself, he'd admit there was no one word that could convey just what gripped him, fear, terror, dread, panic, even combined the words still fell short.

Dean pressed on, his focus on how he would enter the house. As he reached the beginning of the clearing he stayed low and out of sight. There was no reason to tip Gordon off. Anxious to get to the kids, Dean decided to enter the house through the garage.

He was counting on the fact that Gordon was likely holding Sara in the kitchen. The house's open floor plan made it so Gordon would be able to monitor both the back door and the front door from that one position. It's what Dean would do if he was the one laying siege to the house. That left Dean the option of a window or the garage door. He opted for the garage simply because it would be faster, Sam had given him an hour and he could feel time quickly slipping through his hands.

Careful to keep out of sight, he circled the edge of the woods until he faced the backside of the garage. With his lock picks at the ready, he bolted across the grassy expanse of Sara's backyard. The garage was recessed, providing Dean with a perfect hiding spot. As he peered through the door's large square window, he took note of Sara's mini-van and her battered old jeep. It was the vehicle sitting in the third bay that caught Dean's attention, a bright red El-Camino sat in the spot normally occupied by the Impala.

Well, at least Dean now knew how Gordon had gotten in. Sara had the unfortunate habit of leaving the garage door open. Gordon had probably used the driveway's slight hill to help him roll the car into her garage, careful to make no noise that would wake the occupants of the house. After, he had gotten Sara under control, he had probably come back out here, unloaded his supplies, and shut the garage door.

As Dean made his way into the garage, he approached the car, his hatred for the monster that owned it transferring itself to the cherry car. He was half-tempted to lay into it, to destroy the car as he longed to destroy Gordon. Instead, he drew a breath, forcing himself to calm. Dean couldn't help but grin a bit when he found the keys to the car sitting in the trunk's lock. Dean smiled grimly, and carefully and quietly locked the trunk. He then proceeded to lock all the doors and toss the keys into a far corner of the garage. There, he thought to himself, good luck making a quick getaway now.

As he turned, once more, to the door that led from the garage to the kitchen, he found himself wondering just where, Sara's Saint Bernard, Jack was. After a vampire broke into her house, leaving Sara wounded, her husband dead and her kids in danger, she had decided she needed something besides herself to keep watch over her children.

The one-hundred and eighty pound dog was perfect in every way. While loyal to family, it nevertheless viewed anyone else as a threat, treating them as such until Sara told him otherwise. Jack would allow no one near the children without a fight, and given his size, a major fight at that. As Dean set his lock picks to the door, he accepted that Jack was probably already dead. Gordon wouldn't have hesitated to kill the animal simply because it stood between himself and what he wanted.

Dean eased the door open, careful to make no noise. As he did, he vowed once more that Gordon would live just long enough to regret touching his family. He entered the house on silent feet, and paused for a moment in the short hallway. Before him was the door to the guest bedroom that Sam and Dean always used. Well, Sam slept there and Dean, out of deference to the kids, pretended to.

Just to the right of the door was an opening that led into the dining room. Ducking low, Dean took the corner slowly, his eyes focused on the doorway opposite of him. He could just barely make out the kitchen and hear the low murmur of Gordon's voice.

Every instinct in his body screamed for him to go in, guns blazing. To shoot Gordon down like the rabid dog he was, unfortunately, he doubted Sara would make it out alive. Gordon was simply too good and Dean wasn't willing to risk her. No, his only option was to get the kids out and then deal with Gordon. He knew Sara, he knew that if anything happened to her children, alive or dead she'd never forgive him.

Careful to stay low, he made his way, unseen, into the dining room. Picking up speed, he crossed the room quickly and headed for the living room. Once there he paused, his eyes locked on the doorway that led to the hall and the stairs. He needed to get up the stairs, without being seen. No small feat, considering Gordon had a clear view of the hallway from the kitchen.

Dean eased forward determined to locate the other hunter.

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Sara sat at the table, her folded arms resting on the surface, her head on top of her arms. Her eyes locked on the digital clock on the stove. Three hours, Gordon had given the men three hours to get here. Nearly thirty minutes had passed since the man had hung up on Dean, leaving two and half hours before the Winchesters would arrive. It had been nearly four hours since Gordon had awoken her, four hours her kids had been hiding, scared and alone.

"You do know watching that clock's not going to make him get here any faster, right?" Gordon chuckled, obviously amused at his own words.

Sara shifted her eyes from the clock but didn't raise her head. She had refused to say a word to the hateful man since she'd spoken to Dean. It had been hard, but she'd managed to ignore his pointed barbs toward her and the Winchesters. She'd even managed to block out his taunting laugh as he described just how he planned on catching the brothers.

Sara's gaze darted around the room, before finally settling on the doorway to hall. She could just barely make out the staircase. The staircase that would take her to her children, because if she were honest with herself she would admit that they were probably tucked into their cubby right now.

It was then she saw a pair of familiar green eyes peek around the edge of the living room doorway and down the hall towards her. They disappeared as quickly as she'd seen them, and for a moment she feared it was a figment of her overstressed imagination. Either that, or the blows to the head she'd suffered were now coming back to haunt her. Careful to remain as she was, Sara continued to stare at the doorway. She was rewarded a moment later when Dean's familiar face peeked out at her, a sad-half smile on his face.

As he once again pulled back, Sara nearly sobbed in relief. For better or worse, she was no longer alone. Not sure what to do, she stayed still, ignoring the urge to turn around and see what Gordon was doing. She didn't want to risk drawing attention to Dean.

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Dean edged around the corner of the living room, his intent to get a location on Gordon. Instead, he was thrown by the sight of Sara sitting at the table. Her head rested on her arms, her eyes stared straight at him. At her direct gaze, he pulled back, his heart pounding in anger at the bruises that stood out on her jaw and temple. Gathering his control, he eased forward once more, this time, he allowed himself to meet her eyes. He tried smiling, but knew it was weak, and really why wouldn't it be when the man that stood behind her threatened to destroy everyone Dean loved.

Gordon stood with his back to the kitchen as he kept watch out the window. Aware that his time was short, Dean pointed one finger up, letting Sara know that he was going to get the kids. He watched as Sara shut her eyes for a moment, relief evident on every line of her face. As she met his gaze once more, she mouthed the words, "Thank you," and stood. Dean pulled back, straining to hear what was going on.

"I have to use the bathroom," Sara said, her voice firm.

Dean heard Gordon's weary sigh and almost smiled, it was always a pleasure to hear Sara giving her best 'don't fuck with me' voice to someone other than himself. It was an added bonus that the voice was directed toward Gordon.

"Naw, you can wait," Gordon answered his voice even and almost inhuman.

Dean heard a chair scrape against the floor. He could just imagine Sara, arms folded across her breasts, eyes drawn down in a frown, on toe tapping the floor. No one could do pissed better than Sara could. She was fond of teasing Michael about his 'angry eyes' but she refused to admit the kid inherited the look from her. "I have to pee, and I have to pee now. I've been holding it for hours. I'm going now."

Dean heard footsteps heading toward the guest bedroom's bathroom. He quickly guessed that Sara was leading Gordon away from him. As he heard another set of footsteps follow, he darted toward the stairs. He was halfway up and well hidden from sight when he heard a loud bang, and Sara's cry of pain.

Dean actually went down a couple steps before he stopped himself. The kids, he had to get to the kids. It was the reason that Sara risked Gordon's wrath in the first place. He nearly ran up the rest of the stairs, taking care to skip the squeaker. He knew if he didn't hurry, despite his best intentions, he'd end up back in the kitchen forcing a confrontation with Gordon.

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Dean went straight for the attic, not bothering to scour the upper bedrooms. All that mattered was getting the kids and finding a way back out of the house. As he walked into Jess's room, he shut the door carefully behind him and moved toward the attic door. As he stood before it, he paused for a moment, reigning in his emotions. The kids would need him to be strong, they would be upset enough without sensing his anger and fear.

Careful to make no noise, Dean opened the door and started up the attic steps. He'd been up here often enough and knew exactly where Sam had built the kid's fort. As he reached the last step, he moved toward the far right corner, easily skirting the piles of discarded furniture, boxes of clothing and Christmas decorations that filled the room.

Not able to see much in the dim light afforded by the window, Dean neared the cubby. A deep-throated growl gave him pause. Knees near weak with relief, Dean called out, "Jack."

The giant shadow that made its way across the attic floor was a welcome sight. Dean dropped to his knees and reached out to the beautiful brown and white dog that was now trying to crawl onto his lap. "Aw, that's a good dog, Jack. You did good, you stayed with the kids. Good dog." Dean couldn't help but take a moment to reach out and pet the silky soft ears of the big dog. Jack's large brown eyes, loaded with trust, begged Dean to help. "She's okay, Jack, she's okay. Where are the kids?"

Jack turned away immediately and headed back to the cubby. Once there the big dog moved into the small room and dropped down between Michael and the baby, nearly landing on a pile of toys. Dean followed him in, his gaze going over the three kids. Jim sat in front of Michael and Jess, his hand gripping a handful of Jack's hair. At the sight of Dean, he jumped to his feet and darted forward, wrapping his arms around Dean, he held on with a death grip.

Dean hugged the tow headed boy back, his hand brushing Jim's short hair over and over again. "It's okay, Jim. I've got you now. You did good, Kiddo."

Jim, voice broken by tears, said, "I didn't think you'd get here. I thought he got you too."

"Naw, I'm fine, Jim. I'm fine, it just took me a while to get here that's all." Dean hunkered down, reaching out a hand to Michael. "Come here, Mike." Pulling the boy's small frame into his arms, Dean dropped a firm kiss on his head. He looked over to where Jess stood, a frown on her face. Detangling himself from the boys, he reached out a hand to her. "Come here, Baby."

Jess, her face drawn down in a frown that would rival her mother's, shook her head. "No."

Dean looked over at Jim in question, but the older boy just shrugged. It was Michael that answered, "She's mad at you."

Dean looked at the little girl in surprise, she stood, arms crossed, a frown on her face, her once bright yellow sleeper now somewhat the worse for wear. "What's wrong, Jessie?" Dean didn't understand why the two year old was so upset, he'd been expecting tears and hugs, not anger.

"'im said you bring Mommy."

"Jim said I'd bring Mommy, huh?" Dean moved forward until he was nearly touching her. "I'm sorry, Jess. I couldn't get mommy yet, I needed to get you guys first." Holding out his arms, he waited to see if she would forgive him, even as he refused to forgive himself.

Jess's frown faded as her lower lip puffed out and her large cornflower blue eyes filled with tears. Dean's heart nearly broke as the tears trembled on the edge of her lashes before spilling down her cheeks. Then, she was in his arms, gripping him tight, sobs wracking her sturdy little body.

Dean looked about and noticed both boys looked on the verge of a breakdown. Settling himself and Jess on the floor he reached out and gathered both boys into his arms. Unable to offer false words of security, Dean instead opted to just hold them. It took only a moment for Jack to try to get in on the family hug. He laid his huge head on Dean's shoulder, his nose snuffling Dean's cheek.

Not bothering to hold back his laugh, he released the boys and rubbed the big dog's head. Jess remained where she was, cuddled in the crook of his neck. "What happened, Jim?" Dean asked as he glanced around the small room, his mind already searching for someway to get the kids out.

"I woke up and heard a noise, I thought it was mom. Instead, I saw someone in the house, so I got Mike and the baby and hid here," Jim said the words quickly as if afraid he was going to be scolded.

"You did good, Jim. That's exactly what your mom would have wanted you to do." Dean glanced over at the dog for moment. "Why didn't Jack act up?" Dean knew from experience that the dog was more than capable of protecting his family from any threat.

Mike spoke up, "He's been sleeping in Jess's room, but mom has to shut the door or else he leaves. Jess's been having nightmares, if she wakes up and he's not there she won't go back to sleep. He came up here with us."

"I scared, Dee." Jess whispered, as she remained wrapped around him.

Dean patted her back gently. Sara had mentioned that the babe was going through a rough patch as far as sleep went, but she hadn't said Jack was sleeping in the child's room. Dean would have worried a lot less if he'd know that the big dog was keeping watch over the kids. After all, it's what Jack been trained to do.

Jim frowned at Mike. "I wanted to send him downstairs to help mom, but Mike wouldn't."

Mike avoided Dean's gaze as he admitted, "I didn't want him to get shot. Mom told Uncle Bobby that Jack was meant to take a bullet. I don't want Jack to take a bullet, that means he'd die. I didn't want the robber to get Jack."

"When did your mom say that, Kiddo?" Dean asked, reaching out with one hand and hugging the kid against him.

"When we first got him. Uncle Bobby asked why we didn't a smaller dog and Mom said cause she wanted something that could take a bullet. She wanted us protected." Mike flung himself on the big furry dog, and buried his face in Jack's soft brown coat. "I don't want him to die."

Dean watched as the big dog snuffled the little boy, his big black nose nudging Mike. "You did right, Mike, you kept Jack safe. It was better he was up here with you."

Dean glanced around as a thought occurred to him. "How'd you make the call, Jim?"

Jim reached up and grabbed a black phone that had been sitting on one of the boxes. "Mikey got us mom's phone, we called you from that."

Dean nudged the young boy that still lay on top of the dog. "Pretty brave, Michael."

Jess pressed her head against his neck and mumbled, "I bwave too."

Dean squeezed her a bit, as he assured her, "I know you are, Jess. I know."

"Jim, have you heard anything? Has anyone come up here?" Dean asked, as he stood, wincing at the noise Jack made as the dog scrambled to his feet, unceremoniously dumping Mike to the floor.

"The door opened once, but no one came up. It was a long time ago, though, we haven't heard anything since. Are we leaving now, Dean?" Jim asked his face as hopeful as his voice.

"Yup, we're going to get out of here. Sam's outside waiting for you guys. He's going to keep you safe." Dean shifted the baby a bit, and moved quietly toward the attic window. As he thumbed the lock, and lifted the sash, he searched the woods beyond the house, hoping for some glimpse of Sam and the car.


	5. Chapter 5

Sara sat on the edge of the tub, her elbows resting on her knees, head propped in her hands. A line of blood snaked itself down the right side of her face. Following the curve of her jaw, the blood dripped off the end of her chin, to land in an ever-growing puddle on the floor.

"Get a move on, you've got two more minutes or I'm coming in," Gordon's low voice barely carried through the wood door, but she could hear the threat in his tone.

Sara struggled to pull herself together. Gordon, determined to prove to her defiance would get her nowhere, had nailed her hard with his fist, knocking her into the dining room table. Once she'd been able to get back on her feet, he'd then escorted her to the bathroom, with clear instructions that she take no longer than ten minutes or he would have to punish her once again.

She'd gone in the room on unsteady legs and had sat down on the edge of the tub, there she'd remained. Sara was beat, in every sense of the word. Her body, mind and soul cried out in pain and agony with every breathe she took.

The burst of joy that filled her at the sight of Dean's green gaze was gone, leaving her with nothing more than a sense of impending doom. She could see no way out of the dilemma they faced. Even Dean, and most likely Sam's, early arrival heralded nothing more than a quicker resolution to the stand off they were all engaged in.

No matter which way Sara worked the problem, it came down to two simple facts. Either Gordon would win, leaving herself and the brothers lying in a pool of blood, nothing more than collateral damage in the war he was waging. Or, he would wind up dead at the hand of a Winchester. That thought alone was enough to bring tears to Sara's eyes.

If asked, she would freely admit the man needed killing, he was a dog gone rabid. That, however, didn't mean she wanted one of the men she cared for to do the killing. Sam, with his unfailing faith in a world that did nothing but beat him down, and Dean, the soldier in a never-ending war he refused to stop fighting, were already burdened with enough. Neither man needed another mark on their already world-weary souls. The problem was Sara saw no other way out. No other ending would be possible, simply because none of the men would allow it.

Sara at last lifted her head, gaining her feet, she swayed unsteadily for a moment, her gaze seeking out her reflection in the mirror that was mounted on the wall. One look at her bloodied battered face was enough to harden her resolve. Grabbing a washcloth that sat near the sink, she pressed it against the wound that rested just behind her ear.

Determination began to fill Sara once again, she wasn't incapable and most of all she wasn't one to back down. She'd spent the last three years raising a family on her own, if there was one thing she'd learned, it was, if you wanted something done you did it yourself. Well Sara knew what she wanted done, she wanted Gordon out of her life, out of the brother's life, now she just had to figure out how.

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"Staring at it isn't going to make him appear, Sam. He's nearly twenty minutes shy of his hour, he'll be here," Bobby assured Sam once again.

Sam ignored the older hunter and kept his gaze peeled on the garage door where he'd seen Dean make his way into the house. That had been nearly forty-five minutes ago, to Sam that was a lifetime. A lifetime to regret that he'd allowed his brother to go in alone, a lifetime to regret, his decision to allow Gordon to live. Most of all, it was a lifetime to regret bringing danger down upon the people he loved.

"Let's go, we need to be closer to the house in case Dean needs help." Sam didn't bother to see if Bobby would follow. Sam knew he would. After all, Bobby cared about Sara and her children every bit as much as the Winchesters did.

Sam led the way through the woods, circling until he was at the front of the house. Here the ground cover was the heaviest, he was confident Gordon wouldn't be able to see him. Sam watched the attic window sure that he'd see something flicker in it earlier. It made sense, the kids were in the attic, most likely it had been Dean checking the property.

"Bobby, do you think Gordon will go through with it, do you think he'd kill her?" Sam's voice was barely above a whisper.

Bobby's gruff voice offered little hope. "I think he'll do whatever he needs to do to catch you and stay clear of the police."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, that's what I figured. I should just turn myself in. Convince him to let Sara go."

Bobby gripped Sam's arm, pulling the younger hunter around to face him. "That's not even an option, Sam. Besides it won't work, Sara's already involved, Gordon's not going to let her walk away. The only thing you'd accomplish would be to get yourself killed."

Sam pulled away and turned once more to watch the house. "I can't just sit back and let her die, Bobby."

"No one's expecting you to, Kid. But, going through the front door with guns blazing isn't gonna do any of us any good. First and foremost we have to get those kids out."

"Ten minutes left, Bobby. He's got ten more minutes and I'm going in."

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"Jessie girl, I've got to put you down for a minute," Dean spoke softly, as he tried to pry Jess's chubby little arms from around his neck. A muffled "no" was the only response he got, as she grabbed even tighter. Dean blew out a breath and stood with the young girl in his arms. It would make it tougher to maneuver, but really he couldn't blame her for being afraid to let go. If Jim and Michael's faces were anything to go by, both boys were wishing they could also be carried.

Although, the boy's weren't sure of what was going on, neither one could forget the night their father was killed and their mother injured. Sara had yet to tell the boys that the man that killed their dad was actually a vampire, it was something she felt they weren't ready to deal with yet. However, it didn't mean they weren't aware of what had happened, it only meant they didn't know the details.

Holding out a hand to Michael, Dean led the kids out of the cubby. "Stay close, Jim." As he made his way across the floor, Dean winced at the noise Jack made. Unfortunately, sneaking wasn't something the big dog could understand. Worried that Gordon would hear, Dean knelt in front of the dog.

"Jack, down." As the dog dropped to the floor, Dean flinched. To him the noise was unmistakable, he could only imagine it would sound even louder downstairs. Rubbing the big dog's head, he stood once more, and said, "Jack, stay." Dean walked away from the dog confident that he would stay.

Though, he didn't want to admit it, he knew there was no way to get Jack out of the house. He was simply too big. Dean's plan was to get out quietly, leaving the dog safe and sound in the attic while Gordon was dealt with.

He hadn't mentioned it to the kids yet, he knew what their reactions to leaving Jack behind would be, especially Michael. For Mike, the dog was not just a companion but a member of the family as well. He would not willingly leave the animal.

Already Michael was frowning up at Dean. "Why's Jack have to stay? He's coming with us," Michael said, his dark brows drawn down, his piercing blue eyes staring hard at Dean.

Dean drew a breath and reached out to put a hand on Mike's head. "He can't come, Buddy. I'm sorry, he's just too big. He'll be safer up here."

"No, he comes with us," Michael stated, his voice rising in volume. "He's scared to be alone, he needs me."

Dean spoke firmly, "No, he'll stay. I can't get him out of the house, Mike, he has to stay here."

"Then I'm not going," Michael said as he dropped beside the dog and buried his face in Jack's honey brown fur.

Dean let go of the baby, intending to put her down. It took a moment for him to realize she had managed to attach herself to him and was now holding on like a monkey. Rolling his eyes, he found himself wondering just when his life had turned into some kind of warped version of Family Circle. Detaching the baby proved harder than he would have thought. As he finally coaxed her off his chest and allowed her to re-attach herself to his pant leg, he became aware that his time was swiftly running out.

Unable to take the time to reason with Mike, Dean simply hoisted him up, marveling, as always, at how light the kid was, given his size. Although, Michael didn't scream or struggle, he did cry. Tears poured from his eyes as he sobbed and sniffled. Aware that the noise level in the attic had now gotten out of control, Dean made a decision. They were no longer safe, Gordon had to have heard the commotion by now.

Dragging one leg, Dean moved to the attic window. He set Mike down on the ground and quickly set about opening the window and pushing up the screen. Once done, he turned and gestured to Jim. "I'm sorry, Buddy, but there's no other way down. I'm going to lower you out the window. I need you to stand with your back against the house. Then, I'm going to send Mike out, I need you to help him. Jess and I will follow. Can you do that, Jim?"

Jim swallowed audibly, his eyes opened wide in fright, and nodded. It took only a minute for Dean to help Jim up onto the windowsill. Luckily, the drop to the porch was less than six feet below. Dean gripped Jim's wrists and lowered him down. Once on the porch's roof the, obviously scared, boy pressed himself up against the house.

Dean waited only a minute before picking Mike up. "Alright, Mike, here we go, you're next." Dean hoisted Mike through the window, lowering him down unit he saw Jim grab him. Dean picked the baby up once more and settled her against his chest.

"You need to play monkey, Jess. Hold on tight, okay, Babe?" Jess nodded and Dean felt her grip tighten like a vise.

Dean threw his leg out the window and braced himself on the ledge. As he balanced there for a moment, he looked back into the attic once more. Jack was no longer watching Dean, instead his huge head faced the attic steps, a low growl rumbled from deep within the dog's chest. Dean knew someone was coming.

"Jack, up." Dean stated firmly. Jack had been taught to obey a command no matter what, Dean knew if he didn't release the dog from his stay, Jack would be a sitting duck if Gordon came up stairs. At least loose the dog stood a fighting chance.

Unable to do anymore, Dean maneuvered his way, one handed, out the window and down the side of the house. Landing lightly, he reached up and shut the window as much as possible. At the same time, the attic light popped on and Jack's low rumble became a full-throated growl. Dean stood pressed against the side of the house, Jess in his arms, the boys tangled around his legs. He knew they were out of sight, even if Gordon approached the window he would be unable to see directly under the opening.

Dean was hoping Jack would be distraction enough to keep the hunter from looking around the attic. Gordon was nothing if not smart, and the kids little nest combined with the dog, might be enough make him suspicious. Dean didn't want to risk Gordon finding out he was already on the scene, it was an advantage he couldn't afford to lose.

Gordon let lose a curse as he was confronted by the pissed off Saint Bernard. "So, Cujo's not dead after all." Dean heard him say.

Sara answered, her voice nearing the window. "Jack, down." Dean heard a thump as the dog dropped to the ground and continued to growl.

Dean found himself cheering on the big dog. Obviously he'd decided, regardless of Sara's orders, that Gordon posed a threat to his family. Proud of him, Dean hoped nonetheless that the animal would listen, after all, he knew the other hunter wouldn't hesitate to shoot the dog.

"No he's not, I didn't know where he'd gotten to. I didn't want you near him," Sara stated her voice shaking slightly.

"Hm, Aw, big dog's got nothing to worry about. I'm no dog killer." Gordon's voice softened a bit as he addressed Jack, "Right, Big Guy."

He could imagine Gordon, one hand extended toward the dog as he tried to make friends. Dean would have given anything to watch the exchange, knowing that Jack wasn't about to give over and suddenly become Gordon's buddy.

Jack didn't warm up, in fact if anything, Jack's growl grew louder. Dean could picture the dog's snarl, strings of saliva hanging from the corners of his mouth as he sent his warning.

"Don't do it, he'll take your hand off," Sara warned.

Apparently, Gordon didn't listen to the warning. The next sound Dean heard was an unmistakable snap as Jack tried to take a chunk out of the hunter. An overwhelming desire to snicker came over Dean. As he stifled the urge, he couldn't help but hope the dog had taken a finger or two. At least that was his hope until he heard Sara's panicked voice cry out.

"No, don't touch him. He's just doing what he was trained to do."

Dean pulled the kids tighter against him as he listened to Sara bargain for Jack's life. Jess was whimpering and tears still flowed down Michael's cheeks as he held tight to Dean's leg. Jim's eyes were shut tight and he leaned into Dean's waist. He would have given anything for the children to avoid hearing their mom bargain for the family pet.

Sara's voice broke as she begged, "Don't do it, don't you dare. I'll lock him up, he won't come near you, I swear, please don't you kill him."

At last Gordon spoke, "Fine, don't say I'm not charitable. You lock him up good and tight and I'll let him live. After all, kids shouldn't lose their mother and their dog on the same day."

Dean clenched his jaw, and calmed himself with images of just what he'd do to Gordon once he got his hands on him.

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Sam was preparing to head for the house, when a tug on his jacket stopped him. Turning to Bobby, he raised a questioning brow. "I'm going in, Bobby, you can't stop me."

Bobby simply pointed toward the house. Sam turned and saw Dean lowering Jimmy out of the attic window onto the roof below. Sam let loose a curse and tore across the lawn, heading for the front porch.


	6. Chapter 6

Upon leaving the bathroom, Gordon roughly grabbed her arm and propelled her through the living room and down the hall toward her office. After shoving her down onto her desk chair, he shut the blinds on the window and set about piling books and furniture in front of it until there wasn't a glimpse of the window to be seen.

Sara knew what he was doing, he was making sure the boys had no easy access into the house. If she wasn't scared to death for her kids and the brother's, she'd have herself a laugh over the fact that Dean was already inside. Gordon never spoke a word, he simply stared at the window for a moment, nodded confidently, grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room. Quickly but thoroughly, he moved through the downstairs rooms, boarding up all the windows. He even blocked the front door with a cedar chest that Sara kept nearby. The piece was heavy and solidly made there was no way anyone would get that door open without a struggle.

Once he finished the ground floor, he took only a moment to double check that the basement was locked. A while back, Sara had installed a hook and eye-latch on the door. The latch kept the baby from opening the door to the basement, the steep wooden steps, ending in a concrete floor weren't meant for Jess's tiny legs.

Now that the time had come for him to head upstairs, Sara was near desperate to distract him. She considered trying to bolt, figuring it would allow Dean more time for his plan. Oh God, she pleaded with herself, please let him have a plan. She hesitated to go that far simply because she was no good knocked out or seriously injured.

Unable to hold back any longer she spit out, "Do you really think boarding up the windows is going to keep Dean and Sam out?"

Sara saw a flash of annoyance cross Gordon's face before he moved to grab her arm. Sara held back, pulling against him and gestured toward the front door. "You know we'll end up burning to death if there's a fire." Sara nagged using her best whining voice. "I mean really this is the best plan you could come up with? I don't get it, I mean why try and hold me hostage, why not go after the Winchesters direct?"

Sara nearly whooped in delight as she saw Gordon's calm façade crack even more.

"Shut up," he breathed, his eyes burning in anger.

This time Sara made no effort to hold back her laugh. "Ha, so that's it, huh? You weren't good enough to track them down so you had to come here. God, you must really suck." Sara snorted and grinned. "A real man wouldn't have had to use a woman as bait. He would have been able to track the boys."

Gordon was in front of Sara in a flash, grabbing her by the throat he lifted until her toes barely touched the floor. "Stop talking."

Sara did her best to meet the man's dark eyes without flinching, however, as his grip tightened, she struggled to draw breathe. Though, to her it seemed as if he held her forever, it was only a few seconds before he released her.

Instead of allowing her to back away, he forced her closer and lowered his head until their foreheads nearly touched. "Stop talking."

Sara struggling to draw air, nodded. Beaten but not broken, she allowed Gordon to drag her up the stairs.

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Securing the upstairs took less time. Any of the windows that were unreachable from the ground were left alone. The only thing he bothered to do was to pull the blinds. The windows in the front and back of the house, however, were accessible from the front and back porches respectively. Gordon quickly and efficiently boarded up those windows.

As Sara sat on her bed gently massaging her tender throat, and Gordon struggled to move her bureau in front of the window, there was a loud thump from the ceiling above. Earlier as she had followed Gordon from room to room, she had quickly begun to convince herself that Dean was long gone, and her children safe and sound. That one thump ruined every hope she had.

She never saw the blow that knocked her off the bed. One minute she was sitting and the next Gordon had his hands around her throat once more and a knee pressed into her chest.

"What was that noise?"

Sara couldn't move let alone breathe. As she lay on the floor, it hit home that she would end up dead before the day was out. As soon as the thought came, she pushed it away, no, not today. There was no way she was dying today. She was needed here with her kids, not lying around on some fluffy white cloud while strumming some damn harp.

Using the last of her strength, she began to struggle against Gordon's grip, hitting his arm with what strength she could muster. Even though she was sure he barely felt it, Gordon's grip lessened. Maybe her struggle had been enough to recall him to the fact, he wanted her alive a little longer.

As Sara began to pull in air, she heard another thump. This time she recognized the sound for what it was, Jack. Gordon seemed to make a decision, gaining his feet in one smooth motion, he grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. As soon as Sara was upright, her knees buckled and she would have sunk to the ground again, if it hadn't been for Gordon's grip.

"Move," was his only response, as he drew his gun from his waistband and proceeded to drag her out of the bedroom.

Sara struggled to keep up and as they entered Jess's room, she was nearly moving under her own steam. As Gordon led her through the baby's room, Sara chanced a look at Jess's crib. Noticing her little girl's blanket and favorite toy were gone nearly broke her. An overwhelming sense of failure put tears in her eyes.

Once upon a time she'd had a normal life, and the things that go bump in the dark had been little more than stories. Fairy tales dreamed up by others with greater imaginations than Sara would ever have. Then, in one single night that life had come crashing to a halt, shattering all of Sara's allusions. Never one to give up, she'd embraced her new life, and had taken every pain to ensure that her family was protected.

Now, here she was again, her life hanging in the balance as something non-supernatural threatened her and those she loved. She couldn't win, no matter what she did, everyone she loved seemed to end up in danger. It seemed to her, in that one moment that she was never meant to be happy, never was her family to be safe.

Sara's gaze was wrenched away from the empty crib, by the cruel pressure of Gordon's hand on her arm. Flinging open the attic door, he grabbed her and sent her up the stairs first. Careful, to keep Sara between him and danger, he shoved at her back forcing her onward.

As Sara climbed the steps, her gaze darted toward the cubby. From her vantage point, she could barely even tell where the opening was. Before she could breathe a sigh of relief, she heard a low familiar growl. She almost smiled at the sight of Jack, standing at attention his droopy-eyed gaze focused on her. The sound the dog made held no hint of friendliness, it was clearly a warning, and yet to Sara it sounded like heaven. Now at least she could allow herself to believe that by some miracle her kids and Jack had gotten to the safety of the attic.

As the couple reached the attic, Gordon let lose a curse when confronted by the pissed off Saint Bernard. "So, Cujo's not dead after all."

Sara eased away from Gordon and approached the dog. "Jack, down." The dog obeyed without hesitation but continued his deep-throated growl.

Sara edged her way in front of the dog, doing her best to block him from Gordon. She had no doubt that the man holding a gun on her wouldn't hesitate to shoot if the dog in anyway threatened him.

"No he's not, I didn't know where he'd gotten to. I didn't want you near him," Sara stated her voice shaking slightly.

"Hm, Aw, big dog's got nothing to worry about. I'm no dog killer." Gordon's voice softened a bit as he addressed Jack, "Right, Big Guy." Gordon approached Sara and the dog, holding out a hand he moved ever closer.

Jack didn't warm up, in fact if anything, Jack's growl grew louder. Sara watched as drool began to drip from the sides of Jack's mouth, only to form as strings of saliva nearly long enough to touch the ground.

"Don't do it, he'll take your hand off," Sara warned.

Apparently, Gordon didn't believe the warning. The next thing Sara knew Gordon had gotten close enough for Jack to strike. Jack lunged, his teeth snapping within inches of Gordon's hand. Gordon jumped back, his hand fumbling at his waistband for the gun he'd tucked in it. Drawing the weapon, he pointed it at the dog.

Sara threw her arms around the dog's neck. "No, don't touch him. He's just doing what he was trained to do."

Sara's voice broke as she begged, "Don't do it, don't you dare. I'll lock him up, he won't come near you, I swear, please don't you kill him."

At last Gordon spoke, "Fine, don't say I'm not charitable. You lock him up good and tight and I'll let him live. After all, kids shouldn't lose their mother and their dog on the same day."

As Sara grasped the dog's large red collar, Gordon stepped back and to the right. Careful to keep his gun trained at the dog, he continued to move around Sara and the animal, his gaze darting from the attic to the dog over and again.

Unwilling to have Gordon at her back, Sara turned and kept him in her sight. It was then she saw a flash of something outside the attic window. Sara had often heard the expression, my heart just stopped, fortunately, up until this part of her life she'd never actually believed it was possible. That single unmistakable glimpse of Sam and Bobby darting from the tree cover that edged the lawn was enough. Her heart stopped.

Sara stood unmoving her gaze locked on Sam as he ran for the house. For a moment, the safety of the Winchesters and Bobby was forgotten, her only thought was for her kids. If they weren't safely ensconced with Sam or Bobby and Dean wasn't in the house then what did that leave? She questioned herself.

"What's with you?" Gordon's voice couldn't penetrate the panic that was overwhelming Sara.

Not even the rapid-fire curse that Gordon let loose, nor the sight of him aiming through the window toward Bobby was enough. Sara was held in the place by the unyielding grip of fear, it made her knees weak and played havoc with her sanity. Her knees refusing to support her any longer failed her and she sank to the ground.

It was Jack that saved them all, of that Sara had no doubt. Through the fog that gripped her, she watched as Jack gathered himself. She could see the muscles in his hind legs, tense and bunch as he prepared to leap. Lightening quick and strong as a bull, the dog lunged toward Gordon, catching the hunter square in the back.

The bullet that would have torn through the attic window and into Bobby's back never made it out of the attic. Gordon's shot went wide, punching into one of the roof's support beams. Unable to stop his momentum as 180 pounds rammed into him, the most Gordon could do was to turn landing on his back. He had only a moment to force his forearm, up under the dog's snapping jaw, just barely keeping the animal at bay.

It was the sound of the bullet that slapped Sara back into the here and now. She gained her feet and glanced out the window, and saw that Bobby and Sam had made it to the scant protection of the house. Turning toward Jack and Gordon, she began to scan the area desperate to find the gun Gordon had held. Jack was tearing into Gordon, his bear sized paws, scrabbling at the man's shirt, ripping it to shreds and drawing blood, as he continued to thrust against Gordon's arm.

Sara wasn't sure exactly what happened, but Gordon relaxed his arm somewhat, allowing the dog closer and at the same time used his right arm to swing an old lamp that had been lying close to hand. As the ceramic lamp base crashed into Jack's head, the dog collapsed in a heap on top of Gordon.

Sara unable to find the gun, unable to protect Jack, ran for the stairs her mind focused on escape. She never made it, Gordon grabbed her as her foot hit the first step. Sara's only saving grace was the fact that there were only three stairs before the landing and then another ten stairs before the bottom. So, instead of falling down a flight of stairs, she went down three before her momentum was stopped by a wall. Unable to do much more than moan, Sara had little time to recover, before Gordon grabbed her arm, and half pulled her down the rest of the stairs.

"Tell you what, as soon as I kill the Winchesters, I'm gonna go back up in that attic and put a bullet in that dog's brain." Gordon's monotone delivery, made his words sound even colder.

Too busy trying to stay upright, Sara barely noticed Gordon's words. Down two flights of stairs they went, Gordon hit the ground floor running. As she was thrown toward a chair in the kitchen, Gordon dived for his weapons bag. Pulling a handgun from its depths, he checked the clip and stood for a moment his gaze pinning Sara where she sat.

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Dean watched as Sam and Bobby reached the house. He then applied pressure to Jim's shoulder, gently forcing the young boy to his knees. He signaled to Michael, and the younger boy dropped down onto the shingles as well. Dean kept a hand against Jess's back and took a knee next to the boys. "Jim, listen," Dean's voice was barely above a whisper, "we need to get off this roof. I'm going to lower you down to Sam, all you need to do is stay quiet and still. Sam will catch you." He stated the last in a firm voice, allowing the brown-eyed boy to see the conviction in Dean's eyes.

Jim swallowed hard and nodded. Dean flashed a grin and gripped the boy's shoulder. "Mike, you need to hold Jess, alright, you just sit with your back against the house and hold her tight between your legs."

Dean detached the babe, and was about to set her down with Mike when he heard a gunshot, followed by a tirade of furious barking, viscous snarling. Unsure of what was happening in the attic, Dean forced himself to keep his focus on the children that were depending on him.

"Jess, you sit with Mike and we're going to get all of you off this roof." Tears flowed free down the little girl's face, and her normally large blue eyes seemed to have grown even larger. Dean pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and placed her in between her brother's legs.

Dean lay down on the shingled roof, and stretched over the edge. As he looked down, he breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Sam and Bobby staring back up at him. His relief was short lived as Jack's snarling suddenly cut out. Dean closed his eyes for a moment, as he listened for some indication that the animal was okay. When none was forth-coming he opened his eyes and slid farther forward.

"What's going on, Dean?" Sam asked, his gaze searching for the children.

"I've got them, but it's not good in there. We have to get them out. I'm going to lower Jim first." Dean didn't wait for Sam's response, instead he levered himself up and reached for Jim. "Alright, Jim, this is going to be a walk in the park. I'm going to hold onto your hands and lower you down to Sam. I won't let go until Sam has you, I promise." Dean got ready gripping the young boy's wrists tight.

As Jim edged backward over the edge, he stopped and stared at Dean for a moment. "You're going to take care of my mom, right Dean? She said you're a hero, and hero's rescue people. You'll save her right?"

"She said I'm a hero, huh?" At Jim's solemn nod Dean continued, "I'm going to find her Jim, don't worry."

Jim stared a moment more before smiling faintly. Dean returned the smile as best he could, and set about lowering him over the edge. Sam's giraffe height, plus Jim's own four plus feet, made what should have been a difficult task fairly easy. Once the boy was safely on the ground, Dean turned and held his arms out to the baby.

"Mike I'm going to need you to sit on my legs, alright?" At the young boy's nod, Dean, holding Jess crawled forward a bit more. Nodding to the young boy to sit, Dean began to lower his body, gripping the baby with little more than his hands. Even though his stomach muscles protested the position, Dean managed to lower himself until the edge of the roof rested just above his navel.

A couple of times he felt his legs lift, nearly unseating Mike, but in the end the young boy proved to be just enough of a counterweight. Jess was no longer crying silently, now she seemed simply paralyzed with fear. As he began to lower her, by the wrists she began to kick and fight. Unable to do anything for her, Dean simply kept lowering her determinedly ignoring her pleading eyes.

It killed him to do so, he knew the little girl that had so willingly befriended him would most likely never trust him again. How could she, how could any of them when he was unable to keep them safe. Unable to bear the thought, Dean pushed it away. Really, it would be a blessing, that way when he left and never returned they'd simply be glad.

"You got her, Sam?" Dean called out, he knew they had to be close, but the toddler blocked his view.

"You're going to have to let go, Dean. I can just barely reach her, drop her." Sam ordered.

Dean could do no more than, smile thinly at that babe and whisper, "It's okay, Jess, Sammy's gotcha." Then, Dean let go. He watched as she dropped only a few inches before Sam's strong hands snaked around her middle. Breathing a sigh of relief, Dean maneuvered himself back onto the roof.

"Okay, Dude, you're next, you ready?"

Michael grinned as he answered, "I never jumped off the roof before, I wish I had my Spiderman costume."

Dean couldn't help but smile, leave it to Michael to turn this mess into a game. "Yeah, well you're not jumping, you got me? I'm going to lower you to Sam. You let me do the work."

Mike grinned and moved forward, never hesitating as he slid over the edge of the roof. Dean unable to slide forward too much, nonetheless, managed to get Mike fairly close, before he dropped the boy into Sam's waiting hands.

Once all three kids were safely on the ground and standing with Bobby, Sam glanced up toward Dean. "Come on, Dean. We need to get a move on."

Dean grinned faintly and nodded toward the kids. "Get them to safety, Sam. I'm going after Sara." Not bothering to listen to his brother's outrage, Dean was back under the window in seconds. Placing his hands on the sill, he hoisted himself up and back into the window.


	7. Chapter 7

"How'd Singer get here so fast?" Gordon stood only inches from Sara, anger radiating from every inch of him. Cocking the gun in his hand, he pointed it at her. "I'm waiting."

Sara shook her head. "I swear, I don't know. Last time I spoke with Bobby he was in Florida, but that was weeks ago. I don't know where he's been since then."

"Damn, Dean must have called him. I didn't want him involved in this. I've got no beef with him." Gordon's gaze hardened and he shrugged a bit. "I'll have to stop him."

Tears began to snake their way down Sara's cheeks as she again shook her head slightly. "Please, don't hurt Bobby. He doesn't deserve it, he's not involved in this."

Gordon stared at her for another moment. "I'll have to kill him. He's too dangerous, it's not like he'll just walk away. For some reason he truly believes the Winchesters and the crap they're peddling."

At Gordon's words, Sara slumped forward. Uncontrollable shudders wracked her body as she struggled to keep from completely breaking down. Bobby had become family to Sara, after he'd saved both her and her children, he'd continued to be a part of the Powers' lives. He had been the one to show her how to keep her kids safe, how to protect them and herself from the things that walk the night. Hell, he had even sent Dean to her. To think that Gordon was going to strike him down in cold blood simply because he was trying to help was too much for Sara.

It was then Sara realized Gordon had only mentioned Bobby. The realization ripped through her, causing her to nearly cry out in relief. If Gordon had only seen Bobby that meant the brothers were still one up on him. That meant they still had a chance to come out of this in one piece.

"Get up."

Sara stood on shaky legs, leaning against the table edge to hold herself upright. It took another minute for her to finally push away and stand on her own. In the meantime, Gordon pulled a pair of handcuffs from his bag and dangled them by one finger.

"We're gonna make sure you do as you're told while I take care of Singer." Gordon motioned to Sara to hold out her wrist. She complied and a moment later she was securely handcuffed to the door of the refrigerator. He then moved to the kitchen table and exchanged his handgun for a rifle.

"I have a few things to take care of, you're gonna stay right there. I'm not going to gag you, but you get only one chance. You make a single noise and I'm gonna shoot you where you stand. I've got little use for you now." Gordon left the room, rifle in hand.

Sara leaned back against the fridge and said not a word. Her mind raced as she tried and discarded a dozen plans to get herself and the people she loved out of this mess.

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Dean slid over the windowsill and into the dim attic once more. The sight of Jack, lying still on the old wood floor, gave him pause. At first, he was unable to see the steady rise and fall of the big animal's side. It was only as he dropped to the ground, he realized Jack was still breathing. Giving the dog a quick, but thorough, once over, Dean realized the animal had been knocked out. There was a large bump and a shallow cut, above his left eye, luckily, the cut was minor. As Dean called to him, the dog began to show signs of stirring. Unable to walk away from him, Dean took a moment to stroke his soft brown head. Jack's eyes flicked open and he began to whine, the miserable sound gave voice to just how much pain he was in. Finally, Jack began to struggle to sit up, his big tail thumping on the attic floor.

"Come on, Jack, you can do it. You can get up, come on, Big Guy." Dean kept his voice low and began coaxing Jack to sit up with words and praise.

Dean had always had a soft spot for Jack. The dog had proven his loyalty time and again, and had forever earned Dean's respect after saving Sam's life. That, plus the fact, he had done his best to protect Sara, made it impossible for Dean to leave without first ensuring that he'd be okay.

Finally, the dog was sitting up, his droopy brown eyes looking even more forlorn than usual. In place of his usual low growl, he was whining softly. Dean stood and continued to encourage the dog using his voice and stroking the animal's thick fur. At last, Jack staggered to his feet. All four feet braced as if he were a newborn colt trying to find his balance for the first time. Shaking his head, he let out a low yelp and dropped back down, his head resting on his front paws.

Dean knelt down and stroked his head, careful to avoid his injury. "It's okay, Jack. You stay, I'm going to go get Sara." The dog snuffled Dean before finally stretching out on the attic floor. Although, Dean was sure the dog's injury wasn't life threatening, he'd taken enough knocks to the head to know poor Jack probably had a killer headache.

Giving him one last pat on the head, Dean moved toward the attic steps. As he peered down, he noted that the door at the bottom of the steps was open. He was fairly certain Gordon had gone downstairs, however, it didn't stop him from using every bit of caution he could muster as he made his way down the attic steps. It wouldn't do anyone any good to engage Gordon now, not with Sam so close to the house.

He knew Gordon hadn't spotted him. Dean figured the other hunter's headlong rush to the first floor, had been triggered by the sight of either Sam or Bobby. If that was the case than Gordon had a fairly good idea of where the other two men were. Dean picked up his pace a bit, desperate to make sure that Sam, Bobby and the kids made it to safety.

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Bobby's hard gaze roamed the yard once more. They were pressed up against the side of the house, out of sight of the windows and doors. Little Jess was cradled in his arms and both boys were pressed tight to his side. Pushed past the breaking point, both boys and Jess were unaturally still and silent. They needed to, somehow, get all three to safety and they needed to do it sooner rather than later.

The moment Dean made contact with Gordon, there'd most likely be gun fire. Bobby had every intention of getting the kids away before that. Problem was, he couldn't get them back to the truck on his own and Sam seemed unable to tear his gaze away from the house that now held his brother.

Well, if there was one thing Bobby knew, it was how to keep a Winchester focused on the job at hand. Patting Jessie softly on the back, he shifted slightly and pressed the little girl into Sam's unsuspecting arms. "Take the babe, she's no lightweight and I'm too damn old to be playing nursemaid." Bobby ended his curt speech with a wink to the boys showing them he was teasing.

Bobby reached out and tousled Jim's hair as both boys smiled weakly back. He'd come to love this family. Sara's children were bright and bold, full of laughter and spirit, especially the boys. Bobby often imagined Sam and Dean would have been similar if not for the fire that destroyed their family.

Like the Winchester's, tragedy had struck the lives of Sara's children. Though, for better or worse, instead of vowing revenge, Sara had focused her anger and pain on protecting her children at all costs. Bobby could only imagine what Sara was going through, separated from her kids, unsure if they were okay, she would be looking for any avenue of escape.

As Sam accepted the child, that was thrust at him. It was as if a mantle of responsibility had settled on his shoulders. Bobby could actually see him come back to himself, see his focus shift from his brother to the children. "Any ideas here, Bobby?" Sam questioned as he settled Jess on his hip.

"Nothing fancy that's for sure. I'm figuring we're going to have to make a break for it." Bobby turned toward the forest, cover was a good two hundred feet from them.

Sam nodded and took a knee. "That's what I figured. Climb on, Mikey, today is your lucky day. You're gonna get to piggyback." While Michael clambered up his back, wrapping his arms around Sam's neck, Sam looked toward Jim. The older boy looked scared, even if his brother didn't realize the danger they were in, there was no doubt in Sam's mind that Jimmy got it.

Sam reached out and grabbed Jim's hand. "We're gonna run, Jim, Okay? I need you to run faster than you've ever run before. I want you to stay in front of me. You're going to lead the way, Bobby's going to bring up the rear. Can you do that?"

Jim stared up at Sam for a moment, his brown eyes filled with tears, his lower lip quivered slightly. Sniffing, the young boy nodded and said, "I can do it."

Mikey piped up from behind Sam, "Jim's real fast, he beats Mommy all the time."

Sam patted his arm, which was curled around his neck in a near chokehold. "I know he is, Kiddo."

"I wun, I fast," Jess stated firmly, as she began to wiggle in Sam's arms.

Sam did everything he could to hold onto the small child as she began to insist louder and louder that she would run. Finally, he said, "Jessie, you need to help me carry Mike. I can't do it without you."

Jess's round face scrunched up for a moment as she stared hard at Sam. She seemed to be weighing the truthfulness of his statement. After a moment, she reached out and gripped Mike's arm. Nodding her head, she said, "I hold you, Mikey."

Bobby and Sam released twin sighs of thanks as the small child quite wiggling and settled down against Sam once more.

"Alright, Sam, Jim'll lead the way. I'll follow." Bobby didn't need to state aloud that if Gordon saw them, taking a bullet in the back was about all he could offer the rescue mission. It would have to be enough, after all, getting the kids out was all that mattered.

Sam nodded and smiled. "Let's go then."

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Dean heard the unmistakable tread of boots moving around downstairs as he edged his way out of Jess's bedroom. Carefully, he made his way toward Sara's room. He'd have the best view of the yard from there. He needed to make sure Sam and Bobby got clear before he went in search of Gordon.

As he reached Sara's room, he was surprised to find Gordon had barricaded the window above the porch. Dean moved to the window and began clearing a spot. Once he'd cleared a space big enough to see through, he waited.

It wasn't long before he saw Jim burst from the house, moving toward the woods as fast as he could. Sam followed right on his heels, Jess in his arms, Michael hanging onto his back. Careful to remain directly behind Sam, Bobby did his best to cover Sam's back.

Dean could actually feel the hair stand on the back of his neck as the group exposed themselves to the house, to Gordon. Unable to shake the feeling that Bobby was about to be cut down on Sara's back lawn, Dean couldn't stand by and do nothing. Powerless to pull his gaze from the scene below, he reached out for the lamp that rested on the nearby night stand. As he ripped the cord out of the socket, he lifted it high above his head and threw it to the floor. The noise of the impact was deafening in the quiet of the house.

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Sara carefully pawed through the drawer once more, looking for anything that could be used to pick the handcuff lock. As before, the drawer, filled with dishtowels, yielded nothing of interest. As she carefully shut it, she looked around the kitchen once more. She railed at fate over the fact that Gordon had handcuffed her to the fridge instead of the stove. The stove's close proximity to the cooking utensil drawer would have offered her a treasure trove of homemade lock picks.

Not willing to give up, Sara pulled the fridge open and searched it's cold interior hoping that something, anything would jump out at her. As she stood facing the opening, she heard the sound of glass breaking. She knew Gordon had located himself by the front door, she assumed the glass breaking had been one of the windowpanes that vertically lined the doorjamb.

In a near panic, she rose up on her tiptoes and began to feel around the top of the fridge hoping to find something that would work. Pushing up even farther, she stretched as far as she could and felt her fingertips brush over the edge of a piece of paper. Her fingertips whispered across the paper but she was unable to grab it. No longer caring about the noise she was making, Sara stepped up into the interior of the fridge and hoisted herself up to grab the paper.

As she dropped back down, she let loose a curse when she saw the sheaf of papers she held were stapled together. Dropping the sheets, her gaze darted back and forth, as she searched every reachable area once again for something to pick the lock. In desperation, she dropped to the ground, one arm twisted above her head and peered under the fridge.

It was while she lay on the floor that she heard a crash from the upstairs. A moment later brought her the sound of Gordon hitting the stairs at a run. Sara turned her attention back to the underneath of her fridge. Grimacing, she ran her fingers underneath and caught at the dog hair that had built up underneath the fridge. Carefully, she cleared out the space as much as she could, noting just how much crap had accumulated under there since the last time she'd cleaned behind the appliance.

Mixed with the dog hair, was an array of crumbs and food stuff, three matchbox cars and even a bouncy ball. It was while she was sifting through the pile of Jack's hair, she felt something thin and long. Tears began to flow once again, as she dropped it into the palm of her hand and picked away the hair. There in her hand sat one perfect bobby pin.

Her gaze flickered toward the ceiling as she quickly began working the pin open and closed, weakening the small hairpin at it's curve. After what seemed forever, it snapped, neatly breaking in half. Dropping the curvy part, Sara held onto the straight part, thankful that it snapped leaving just a slight curve to the end. Placing the curved part into the lock, Sara gently brought the bobby pin straight back until she felt the tell-tale snap of the cuff being released.

As she left the cuff dangling against the fridge, she stood frozen for a moment. She was unable to decide if she should head upstairs or if she should give in to the urge that was demanding she flee.

Another loud crash from her bedroom and a resulting scuffle answered Sara's question, grabbing Gordon's duffle bag off the table she headed toward the basement door, lifting the latch she headed downstairs as quietly as she could shutting the door behind her.


	8. Chapter 8

"That you, Winchester? Yeah. It's gotta be you. After all, I just had Singer and Sammy dead center in my sights, so that leaves only you."

At the sound of the low voice just beyond the doorway, a rage unlike any he had felt before flooded Dean. He wanted to leap from his spot behind the door and rip into Gordon with his bare hands. Every wrong that Gordon had done to the ones Dean loved, played through his mind. He was actually shaking as he forced himself to hold back. What kept him from giving in to his instinct was the fact that Gordon wanted him to loose control. If truth be told, Dean was sure the other man was counting on it.

"That's a pretty little woman you got down there, Dean. She's not only a looker, she's got spunk. I like that in a woman." Gordon's velvety soft voice nearly purred. "Yeah, she and I been having some fun."

As Gordon's words swept over him, Dean's grip on his gun involuntarily tightened. He drew a deep, silent breath, forcing himself to calm. He knew Gordon was simply goading him, and he couldn't afford to let it work, Sara was depending on him.

"I have to say..." Gordon's voice trailed off a bit as he moved around the hall "I was a bit disappointed when I'd heard you were sniffing after a mom of three, but now that I've seen her, I get it."

He tensed, sensing that Gordon was entering the room, Dean tucked his gun in his waist belt. He knew he had only one chance to catch the hunter by surprise. Rather than wait until Gordon had fully entered the room, Dean drew back a foot and kicked out with all his strength. The solid wood door swung into Gordon with a bang, and eliciting a curse from the other hunter.

Dean couldn't help the grin that slid across his face as he confronted Gordon at last. The other man stood, gun lowered, one hand pressed to his face as blood poured from his nose. Taking advantage of Gordon's lapse, Dean lunged for the other man. At that moment, the fact that Walker held a gun meant nothing to him. The need to pound on Gordon with his bare hands, to feel the other man's bones break and his skin split open was an urge that Dean wouldn't deny.

Slamming a fist into Gordon's, already shattered, nose, Dean laughed in satisfaction as the other man cried out in pain. Another solid blow had Gordon staggering backward. Dean continued to force him back with hit after hit.

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"Bobby, here take her, I'm going back in. I need you to get the kids to Sara's parents," Sam said as they reached the parked vehicles. Handing Jessie to Bobby, he bent his knees allowing Mike to slide off his back.

Bobby already had the truck door open and was in the process of helping Jim into the cab. "Soon as I get the kids to her parent's, I'll be right back."

Sam who had been rifling through the contents of the Impala, carefully packing a duffle with supplies, stopped what he was doing to glance over at the older hunter. "No way, Bobby. I want you to stay with them. If for some reason things..." here Sam glanced over at the kids. Jim was leaning out of the truck, his sister's hands in his own, while Mike struggled to push the little girl up and into the cab.

Sam started again, lowering his voice, "If things go bad, he might come looking for them. You need to keep them safe, Bobby, no matter what."

Sam could see that Bobby was struggling not to argue, the older man obviously wanted to be in the thick of things. Instead, Sam was asking him to sit on his hands and wait to see what the outcome would be. "Fine, Sam, I'll stay. I'm telling you, now, I don't hear from you within the hour and I'm comin' back."

Sam nodded, knowing he'd get no better deal. Zipping the duffle bag he'd filled, he slung it over his shoulder and approached the kids that now sat in the cab of Bobby's trunk. Sam reached out a hand, grabbing Jim by the back of the neck he drew him forward. He stared into Jim's eyes intent on offering the young boy some hope. "I'm gonna go get Dean and your Mom, okay. Don't worry." Dropping a kiss on Jim's sandy colored hair, Sam then turned to Mike.

"How you holding up, little man?" Sam asked his hand atop Mike's dark head.

Mike stared up at Sam, his bright blue eyes piercing the young hunter where he stood. "It's okay, Sam. Mom's gonna be fine, she's tough as nails." Michael's young voice was so sure it brought a smile to Sam's face.

"Who told you that, Kiddo?" Sam asked.

"Dean, he said she's stubborn as a mule and tough as nails, just like me." Michael answered with obvious pride in his voice.

"Dean, huh? Well he'd know that's for sure." Sam planted a kiss on Mike's dark hair.

Turning his attention at last to the toddler that was squeezed in between her brothers, Sam couldn't hold onto his smile. The little girl was obviously exhausted, her red-rimmed eyes still shimmered with tears, and fatigue had smudged dark circles under them. She was unnaturally pale and hanging onto Mike for all she was worth, obviously, drawing comfort from her older brother.

"Everything's going to be okay, Jess," Sam said as he swept a lock of her pale blonde hair behind her ear. The little girl simply tucked herself against Mike and closed her eyes.

"Take care of them, Bobby," Sam called as he moved out and away from the vehicles, his long stride eating up the distance between himself and Dean.

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Gordon lay on the landing gasping for breath, blood from both his lip and his nose dripped upon the wood floor. Dean stood one step above him, gazing down in satisfaction at the sight of Gordon broken and bleeding. Unable to resist, Dean taunted the other man, "That the best you got, Gordon? That was weak, man, mighty weak. I gotta say I'm not impressed." Dean lashed out with his boot, catching the downed hunter neatly in the chin. The sound of Gordon's head snapping back with an audible click made Dean smile.

Dean pulled the gun he'd stashed in his waist belt and pointed it at Gordon. He had absolutely no qualms about shooting Walker where he lay. At least, he didn't until he realized just where he was. He couldn't do it. He couldn't shoot this man, rabid dog that he was, in Sara's house it wasn't right. That type of violence would forever ruin Sara's home. As it was, he doubted Sara would ever again feel safe here. He wouldn't add to that feeling by cutting down Gordon on her staircase. As far as Dean was concerned there should be no trace Walker had ever entered the home and that included bloodstains on the floor.

Distaste evident on his face, Dean bent over and grabbed one of Gordon's legs. Not giving a damn about the damage he inflicted, Dean allowed Gordon's unconscious form to thump down each step. After all, why should he care when his intention was to drag him outside and shoot him. He took particular delight in the sound of Gordon's head hitting the banister at the bottom of the steps as he drug him toward the kitchen.

As he heaved Gordon into the kitchen, he called out to Sara. He was surprised to find the room was empty. It was only as he spied the empty handcuff he realized she must have found a way to escape. Confident that Gordon wasn't waking up anytime soon, Dean left him and crossed the kitchen, heading for the dining room. A quick, but thorough, search of the downstairs left Dean with no clue as to where Sara was. He called out to her again, as he held back the panic that threatened to overwhelm him, and headed for the kitchen once more.

He was in such a hurry he never noticed the shadow that stood to the right of the door. A blinding flash of pain and he knew no more.

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Sara was halfway out the basement window when she heard Dean's voice calling to her. A wave of relief crashed through her, weakening her to the point she wasn't sure she could wiggle back out of the window. For one moment, she was sure that she must look a bit like Pooh stuck in his honey tree. That thought, combined with the sound of Dean calling to her gave her a smile and the energy boost she needed. Her split lip put an end to her good humor. Though, she hadn't noticed it a minute before, aches and pains she hadn't been aware of now came crashing home. She wondered if it was something to do with the fact that she was now safe. A case of coming off the adrenaline high she had been riding.

Whatever the reason, it sucked. As she maneuvered her way back into the basement she became aware of every bruise and ache Gordon had inflicted on her. She desperately wanted to return Dean's call, but really, she could barely manage to get herself over to the staircase. Paused with her foot on the bottom step, she was about to make her way back upstairs when she heard a thud and a crash.

Suddenly, a lack of adrenaline wasn't a problem. She was flooded with energy as she instinctively moved away from the stairs and back toward the basement window. It didn't take a genius to figure out something was wrong. Dean stopped calling for her and now instead of silence she could hear the steady thump of what sounded like foot steps.

Fear for herself had her edging her way toward the basement window. Fear for Dean had her gaze trained on Gordon's weapon bag, which sat on the floor near an old beat up couch. She was torn for lack of a better word. She had a responsibility to her children to stay safe. After all, she couldn't justify purposely endangering herself when escape was possible. The problem was, she'd be unable to look those same kids in the eye and admit she'd abandoned Dean to whatever fate had in store for him. She worked every day to instill in her kids a sense of responsibility toward others, how could she do any less, especially when it was Dean in danger.

She had to do something. Moving toward the weapons bag, she swiftly bent over it and began rifling through it. It sent a shiver of unease up her back to be rummaging through Gordon's bag. The man was a killer, of that Sara had no doubt. In her mind, there was little difference between Gordon and the vampire that had killed her husband. Both were unconscionable monsters.

Sara began loading the handgun she'd pulled from the duffle. It was then a hand slipped around her mouth effectively silencing her.

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Sam never looked back at Bobby and the kids, not even at the sound of Bobby's pickup as it pulled away. Whether it was natural concern for Dean and Sara, or something more psychic in nature, Sam's every instinct screamed for him to hurry. Making his way back to the house took only moments. He honestly gave little thought to stealth, the drive to get inside was simply too great to ignore.

It took only a moment's search to find a way into the house. One of the basement windows was propped open. Unconcerned it might be a trap Sam darted to the window. A look in had him breathing a quiet sigh of relief. There with her back to the window was Sara. Although she looked worse for wear, she was alive and standing on her own two feet. To Sam, that's all that mattered.

As he watched, Sara pulled a gun from an unfamiliar black bag and quickly set about checking the weapon. He took this to mean that Gordon was still a danger. In fact, he must be close as Sara was being careful to make no noise. Easing the window open a bit wider, Sam carefully rolled over onto his stomach and slid noiselessly into the basement. He landed without a sound on the hard concrete floor.

He crept on silent feet to Sara's side and slipped a hand around her mouth. The feel of her sharp teeth, as she bit his hand, was a reminder that next time he should identify himself first. Despite the bite and her struggling, he pulled her against his chest and whispered softly, "Sara stop."

It was as if he'd knocked her out. All the fight went out of her frame and she sagged back against his chest. Sam removed his hand, spared only a glance for the teeth marks embedded in his palm, and hugged her against him. As shudders began to wrack her body, he realized she was crying. The feel of her sobs as she cried, frightened him more than words ever could. To see Sara, who was always so strong, break down so completely floored him. Unable to do much, he held her, waiting for her to get herself back under control.

Sara being Sara, it took only a moment before she was pulling away. With a deep felt sigh, she efficiently used her shirttail to rub away any sign of her tears. Finally, she faced Sam her smile trembled for a moment and then became firm.

Sam's answering smile slid off his face as he took in Sara's appearance. She stood before him in an old shirt of Dean's, the sleeves had been rolled back several times, and it fell past her hips. Her well-worn blue jeans fit snugly and a pair of sneakers graced her feet. It wasn't her outfit that brought out Sam's frown, he'd seen her dressed similarly in the past, it was the blood. It was splotched and splattered all over the clothes she wore.

Sara's face had fared little better, it was obvious that the blood on her clothes must have come from her face. Her lower lip was swollen and cracked, a line of blood appeared every time Sara's expression shifted. The left side of her face was also swollen and bruised and the skin on her cheekbone had split. There was also a trickle of blood leading from her temple, though her hair covered the wound. The worst though, was the clear set of fingerprints that encircled Sara's throat.

"Shit, Sara. What did he do to you?" Sam asked his voice, though low, was harsh with anger.

Sara used her sleeve to swipe at her lip and shook her head. "I'm fine, Sam. It's nothing really."

Nothing, Sam just stared at her, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Something had to be wrong with Dean. Something seriously wrong, because if he'd seen Sara looking like this nothing on earth would have stopped him from ripping Gordon apart with his bare hands. Sam could understand that feeling. In fact, if he had Gordon here in front of him, he himself would have torn the man apart.

"Sam, the kids, where are my kids?" Sara asked as she leaned toward Sam an anxious look on her face.

"They're fine, Sara. Bobby's on his way with them right now to your parent's house." Sam reached out and grabbed hold of Sara as she swayed. "I'm not sure how they managed it, but, Jim called Dean and we were lucky enough to get here before Gordon called." Sam pushed Sara from him a bit and looked her in the eye. "Sara, where's Dean?"

Sara seemed to pale even more as she answered Sam's question. "I'm not sure, I was about to head out the window when I heard him call my name. I was headed upstairs when there was a thump. I think..." here Sara paused for a moment. "I think Gordon's got him now. He stopped calling me." Sara gestured toward the gun that now lay on the couch with a shrug. "I was heading upstairs to help him when you tried to give me a heart attack."

Sam nodded his face grim. "Okay, I want you outside. Go to the Impala, it's in the Foster's driveway. I want you to go to your parents and stay there." Sam leaned down holding Sara's defiant gaze with his own. "You will go there and you'll stay. I won't have you hurt anymore."

"No, I won't. I can't just leave you both to Gordon, I won't. I can help. I'm a good shot, Bobby and Dean taught me well," Sara's voice was low and hard, her tone brooked no argument.

There was only one argument he knew that would send Sara on her way, and though it was below the belt, Sam knew he had no choice. "You're going to just abandon your kids, Sara? What happens if you die, who's going to take care of them. They need you more than we do. What kind of mother would orphan her children on purpose?"

The hurt that clouded Sara's gaze almost made Sam retract his harsh words. It was his resolve to keep her safe that allowed him to hold steady.

Sara backed away a couple steps, leaving Sam to feel even worse. "You're right." She was across the room, intent on the window in minutes. Without another word, she stepped up on the chair that was positioned under it and propped the window open.

Sam turned his back on her and concentrated on the basement stairs. He wouldn't allow Sara's hurt to cloud his judgment, she was safer gone. It's what Dean would want.


	9. Chapter 9

Sara was once again half-way out the window when she chanced a peek back into the basement. It wasn't an easy feat by any means and the pressure it put on her chest as she turned to the side caused her ribs to throb in pain. However, the sight of Sam edging his way up the basement stairs was enough to drive all thoughts of discomfort from her mind. She couldn't do it, regardless of Sam's words, hell, even her own thoughts, she couldn't abandon the brothers. Not if she planned to live with her conscience.

Decision made Sara never hesitated. It wasn't in her to waver once her path was set, and in this case, her path led back upstairs. Eyes pinned to Sam, who was now disappearing up the steps, she carefully wriggled her way back into the basement. She dropped soundlessly to the battered armchair beneath the window and then to the floor. Intent on the weapons bag that still sat on the couch, she quickly pulled out the pistol she'd been holding earlier. Gathering an extra clip, she pulled up the hem of the shirt she wore and tucked the gun into the waistband of her jeans.

Next, she rifled around the bag, searching for anything that could be of use. A small bottle of lighter fluid and a butane lighter caught her eye next. She tucked the bottle into a back pocket and slid the lighter into another pocket. She finished with a set of lock picks and a pair of handcuffs. By the time she was done, she felt as if she had gained five pounds. However, she also felt a measure of security. False or not it was better than overwhelming fear.

Unwilling to provide Gordon any more help, Sara quickly hid the bag and headed toward the far wall of the basement. She came to a stop before a door, it was nearly invisible unless you knew to look for it. Sara was banking on the fact that Gordon hadn't noticed it. Without a sound she eased open the door and began to climb the steps before her.

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Dean came to with a groan. As he struggled to lift his chin off his chest, he took stock of his body. The stiffness in his arms and shoulders paid testament to the fact that his arms were tied behind his back. He flexed his forearms, testing the cuffs that encircled his wrists. Resigned for the moment that he was well and truly caught he concentrated on opening his eyes.

"Hello, Sleeping Beauty. I was starting to think you were going to sleep the day away."

Dean nearly groaned again at Gordon's familiar tone. "You've got to be kidding me," he growled as he focused on Gordon's face.

The other hunter sat at the kitchen table, a bag open before him. He seemed to be in the process of cleaning himself up, a pack of butterfly bandages sat by his elbow. Dean took comfort in the fact Gordon looked as if he'd been run over.

"What Dean surprised to see me up and about? Don't see why, you hit like a girl," Walker muttered as he began to clean up the supplies.

Dean rolled his eyes, the movement sent a bolt of pain through his head. Reminding himself not to do it again, he focused once more on Gordon. "So what now?" Dean asked, before answering himself, "Let me guess, you've got me tied up, your intention is to lure Sammy here. Am I right?"

At Gordon's stony expression, Dean's smirk grew into a full-fledged smile. "No, no wait this is just too good. You've got the house rigged right? You're planning on blowing us both up." Dean forced a laugh careful not to allow his fear to betray him.

Gordon was up and out of his chair in the blink of an eye. Dean's head snapped back as the other man's fist made contact. Two blows later and Dean was barely clutching to consciousness. His head dipped forward, blood from his split lip dripped steadily onto Sara's tile floor. He allowed his gaze to focus on the floor for a moment, as he struggled to gather his strength. The floor triggered a wisp of a memory and brought a fleeting smile to his face.

About two month's ago, the brothers had stopped off on their way to a hunt. Though, Dean had never told Sara they'd actually gone nearly two hundred miles out of their way to 'swing by'. He hadn't bothered to offer up an excuse to Sam, he hadn't needed to. It'd become common, when the opportunity presented itself, for them to stop in Haycock. They had only one night to spare, but, as always, Sara had made the most of that time.

They had arrived only an hour before dinner, and were immediately surrounded by the kids, each child vying for the brother's attention. Sara had barely greeted them before heading to the kitchen, determined, as always, to 'feed them up'. She'd succeeded brilliantly. The lasagna, she'd pulled from the freezer, had left Sam so stuffed he'd been asleep on the couch within minutes following dinner. Dean happy to give in to the demands of the kids, had supervised bedtime with military precision (pajamas, wash face and hands, brush teeth) followed by a whole lot of rough housing. By the time the kids were settled in, and told a rather tame 'story' involving a haunted mansion, Dean himself had been exhausted.

He had tiptoed through the living room, double-checking that Sam still snored, on his way to the kitchen. As he had stood in the doorway all thoughts of sleep were wiped clear. He drew a deep breath in appreciation for the sight before him. She stood in front of the sink, her back to him, the radio, mounted under one of the cabinets, playing softly. Her hair was caught up in a loose bun, tendrils hung down her slender neck teasing the soft skin. Her shoulders were curled forward a bit, giving testament to just how long a day it had been.

He'd used every bit of stealth he had to sneak slowly up behind her. In a flash, he'd wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. He had to admit, he hadn't given any forethought to the plastic dish she'd been washing. It flipped out of her hands, soaking both him and her, before it landed on the floor with a splash.

Soaked to the skin, a puddle forming around his feet, Dean had growled out an apology before releasing her and dropping to the fawn colored tile floor to pick up the dish. A towel was quickly dropped into his hand and he began cleaning up the water as Sara dissolved into giggles.

"Wow, Winchester, that was smooth," she drawled as she grabbed another towel and dropped to the ground beside him.

Dean glanced up, a sarcastic reply on his lips, when he got his first good glimpse of what the water had done to the t-shirt Sara was wearing. The once white fabric was now nearly transparent and clung to her every curve. The outline of her lacy pink bra stood out in relief, causing Dean's mouth to water. Not bothering to think, he snaked one arm out and pulled her against him. He still remembered the way her eyes danced with laughter, until he brought her flush against his chest. It was then every hint of laughter fled her in one soft gasp. Intent on enjoying the moment, he placed the back of his knuckles against the line of her jaw, and caressed the soft skin there.

Sara's eyes slipped shut and she leaned her head back a bit. Dean took advantage of the opportunity and kissed a feathery-light trail down the length of her neck, ending at her collarbone. He held her, breathing in her scent, as he pressed a moist kiss to her pulse. He caught a ragged breath as he felt her heartbeat racing out of control.

As her arms snaked around to the back of his neck, he reveled in her touch as she made contact with his skin. A shiver ran through him as her fingertips made a trail of fire across the back of his neck. Her fingers dipped below the collar of his shirt just before she gripped the back of his head drawing his lips to hers. Dean lost himself in that kiss. For one moment, the walls he normally held in place had fallen away and he lost himself in the feel and scent that was unique to Sara.

Dean didn't care the hard tile floor was wet, he wrapped one arm around Sara's waist and reclined, pulling her down on top of him. He welcomed the feel of the cold water soaking his back as the warm weight of Sara's body stretched out on top of him. Everywhere their bodies touched a fire seemed to erupt. As he slid his hand under the hem of Sara's shirt, he began to make slow circles. He stroked her lower back, dipping his hand into the waistband of her jeans every now and again.

Always vocal, Sara was murmuring to him. Dean had been unable to make out most of the words but he understood enough to hear the encouragement in her voice. He reveled in the feel of her hands, as she pushed up his shirt, uncovering his chest. His undoing though, was the feel of her teeth grazing his collarbone. With a low growl, he grasped the sides of her face once more and drew her mouth back to his. Taking control, he rolled Sara onto her back only to have the moment shattered by her yelp. Slow to catch up, he was surprised when she suddenly started struggling to get out from under him. Leaning back, he freed her.

"Crap, the floor's soaked." Sara sat up, pulling her now completely soaked shirt away from her back.

Dean ran a hand through his hair trying to slow his breathing. He'd completely lost control, something that didn't often happen with him. They were in a house full of kids, with his brother in the next room and he'd been happily on his way to taking Sara on the hard tile floor. Muttering a low, "Sorry." Dean once again grabbed the discarded towel and set to wiping up the mess. Within minutes the floor had been dried. Sara had grabbed the towels out of his hands and had left the room. In a moment, she'd been back, a distracted air about her.

Despite his spit lip, Dean's smile grew full-fledged as he remembered what had happened next. It was one of many memories that he held close.

Giving the kitchen a quick once over, Sara had grabbed his hand and had begun pulling him from the room her soft laughter quickly re-kindling the heat he'd felt earlier. Dean tugged on the hand holding his, drawing Sara back into his arms. He'd tortured her as they'd made their way toward the stairs and the privacy of her room.

Back in the here and now, with Gordon staring daggers at him, his fears for both Sara and Sam nearing the point of panic, Dean's mind traced the memory of that night over and again. His gaze focused on the buff colored tile floor. His mind savored the memory, ignoring the blood that marred the once clean surface. A measure of calm broke over him as he realized at least one good thing. Sara wasn't here with him, that cuff dangling from the fridge had been a sign. She was free, she was safe.

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Sam crept up the stairs, grateful he was so familiar with Sara's house. With ease, he avoided the steps that creaked. Hesitating only as he neared the open basement door. He could hear his brother taunting Gordon. Sam found himself wishing Dean would just keep his mouth shut for once. The sound of fists striking flesh, and Dean's low moan of pain assured Sam his brother was, as always, antagonizing his captor.

He needed to get the drop on Gordon, of that Sam was sure. It was the how of it that was posing the problem. Last time they'd encountered the other hunter he'd booby trapped the place, his intent to blow Sam to pieces. Even though Sam was sure that Gordon wouldn't use the same trick, he was confident Walker had some plan in place.

The most Sam could do was to remain alert. Well that and, Sam thought with a snarl, kill Gordon if he had the chance. After all, his choice to leave Gordon alive last time is what had brought the killer to Sara's. Sam would forever feel the guilt of that decision, regardless of the outcome today. No, this time Gordon had done it, he'd proved himself to be beyond redemption. Gordon Walker was a dead man, he just didn't realize it yet.

As he neared the top step, Sam listened carefully. He knew Gordon and Dean were in the kitchen. Luckily from the sound of things they were out of sight of the basement stairwell. Sam needed to get past the door and into the dining room as quickly and quietly as possible. He didn't want to risk a fire fight with Gordon while the other hunter had Dean under his control.

He stood balanced on the top step, his back pressed against the doorframe. Slowly, making no noise, Sam released a pent up breath and slipped out of the opening. Careful to keep his gaze pinned on the only part of the kitchen he could see, Sam ducked into the dining room.

He wasn't sure what tipped Gordon off but the shot that nearly clipped Sam was too close for comfort. Sam ducked and rolled under the dining room table, another bullet thudding into the solid oak top. Sam heaved one shoulder into the table, and flipped it with a groan. The heavy wooden piece tipped to its side with a thump, forming a barricade. Unfortunately, it also left Sam basically trapped. Easing up a bit, he glanced over the edge of the table and fired toward the kitchen. He aimed carefully afraid to catch Dean in the crossfire.

The main living area of Sara's house was laid out in a circle. Each room, the living room, dining room and kitchen led into the next making it near impossible to defend any one area. Behind Sam, a short hallway led from the garage to the spare bedroom that Sam slept in. To his left was the sunroom, its patio doors leading toward the back yard.

Sam made a decision, better to make a run for it, than to be a fish in a barrel. Also, he was hoping Gordon would follow him outside, allowing Dean time to escape. As he fired a couple shots back at Gordon, he readied himself to make a run for the patio doors.

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Dean saw the flash by the basement steps at the same time as Gordon. Without a doubt, he knew it was Sam. He saw Gordon's satisfaction a moment later as the other hunter aimed and fired into the dining room. Dean had to do something. His arms were wracked back, cuffed behind him with no room to maneuver, but his legs were free. Gordon had either not gotten to it, or in the pain of the beating he'd taken at Dean's hands, it simply slipped his mind. Either way Dean wasn't going to complain. Not if it allowed Sam to get to safety.

Careful to choose his moment, Dean waited as Gordon exchanged a volley of shots. Though, he couldn't see Sam, he knew his brother was in the dining room. The thump he'd heard earlier could only be one thing, the huge oak table that was one of Sara's most prized possessions. Dean quickly went over Sam's choices and concluded his brother's only hope was the French doors that led to the back yard. Sam heading outside had the added bonus of leading Gordon away, giving Dean a chance to get free.

It was then Gordon exposed himself. Dean knew the other hunter was risking himself in order to draw Sam out. Careful to choose just the right moment, Dean waited a heartbeat before kicking out with his legs, catching Gordon neatly in the back of his knees.

As Gordon hit the ground, Dean heard shots fired and the tinkle of glass shattering. He caught a fleeting glimpse of his baby brother darting out the door. Quick to take advantage of Gordon, Dean pushed himself to his feet. Bent over at the waist, the chair he was strapped to digging into the backs of his knees, Dean could do little. He only hoped it would be enough.


	10. Chapter 10

It was the sound of gunfire that quickened her steps. Up and into the garage with little more than a glance, Sara kept her gun in hand. Her dad had been the one to suggest connecting the basement to the garage, at the time she'd been a bit hesitant. It was the idea of being able to access the basement without having to tromp through the house that had changed her mind. She figured with three kids, a ready-made basement entry would be a benefit in the long run. The stair well was on the far side of the garage, next to the mini-van's parking spot. A low wall kept people from accidentally stepping into the stairwell, and made the access near invisible unless you were looking for it.

She had expected to find her red mini-van occupying one of the garage spaces, and the Jeep was no surprise. However, the cherry red El Camino was a shock. Anger flashed through her at the sight of the bastard's car. She found herself fighting down a sudden urge to take a bat to the shiny red paint. How she'd love to take her anger and fear out on the car. Instead, she gathered her control and sidestepped it as she headed for the interior door.

The sound of gunfire was enough to make her pause. Although, the urge to help was strong, she had no delusions when it came to her own skills with a gun. She could shoot, and even better, she could hit what she aimed for. Yup, as long as the target stood perfectly still, allowing her the time necessary to line up the shot, she was your girl. However, she had a feeling that Gordon Walker would be less than cooperative if Sara ever did get the chance to point a gun his way.

She shoved her fears away, after all, she had made a decision, and she planned to stick with it. So, she listened and she waited. It wasn't long before she heard the sound of breaking glass and the sound of the gunshots seemed farther away. As she wrapped her hand around the doorknob, she drew a deep breath, and eased the door open. Careful to make no noise, she eased her way in, shutting the door behind her. She was in a small hallway, in front of her was the door to the brother's room, and to the right was the opening to the dining room.

For a moment, the memory of the first time she had met Dean flooded her, filling her with emotion. The brothers had been on a hunt. Injured, worn down, and in need of a place to recuperate, Bobby had sent them to her. By the time the brothers had packed their bags two weeks later, they'd become part of her family.

She'd found herself drawn to Dean from the start. To some he was a mystery. To her he was an open book. She not only understood him, but she sympathized with him. She knew what it was to be dependant on the happiness of others for your own happiness. She'd been living that way for a couple years now. Ever since the night her husband had died. That night Sara had learned that human monsters weren't the only ones creeping through the night. It was then she'd become ferocious in protecting those she loved. She understood what drove him to put Sam first. She understood and truthfully, she admired it. In Dean she'd found her counterpart. Resolve firmed Sara's backbone. She'd made a promise and she intended to keep it.

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Dean advanced on Gordon, his hands bound behind his back, the chair hampering his movements. He couldn't find it in himself to care. Anger had finally overtaken him. He knew it wasn't good, uncontrolled emotion only clouded your judgment, it did nothing but increase mistakes. His father had drilled that into his boys from the start. Right now, though, Dean found he didn't give a shit, in fact, he welcomed the anger as he stepped up to Gordon. At that moment every word his father ever said slipped away to be replaced by a white-hot blaze.

"I'm gonna rip you apart," Dean snarled, as he advanced on Gordon.

Something in his tone must have led Gordon to believe Dean's words. Rather than take on Dean, even strapped to a chair, Gordon chose to flee. Barely dodging the kick that Dean sent his way, Gordon rolled and scrambled to his feet. As he turned to face Dean, his lip curled up in a snarl.

"You're gonna have to catch me first Dean, good luck with that." Gordon nodded to the cuffs and chair that were dragging Dean down. Eyes pinned to Dean, Gordon scanned the kitchen floor before diving for his gun that had slid under the kitchen table. He never made it, Dean's kick connected this time, catching Gordon in the ribs.

Although, Dean wasn't able to put a lot of force behind the kick, it was enough to stop the other man from reaching the weapon. Before he could strike again, Gordon was on his feet, one arm wrapped tight around his ribs. Dean stood well back, waiting for the moment to strike again. As far as he was concerned he could do this all night. It wasn't as satisfying as ripping Gordon limb to limb but it would do.

Gordon's eyes flickered from the gun to Dean, weighing his options he seemed to come to a decision. He began backing toward the door. "I'm gonna get going, I'll give Sammy your love." With these words, Gordon darted out of the room.

Dean watched as Gordon ducked out heading for the back door. He let loose a curse and began struggling with the chair strapped to his back. His only option for getting free was to break the chair. Gordon had used his head when he'd cuffed him. His hands were spread in such a way that even if he found a pick he couldn't work it. He tried sitting and rocking, repeatedly he slammed his back into the spokes behind him hoping to separate them from the chair seat. Not able to care about the damage he was doing to himself, Dean's only thought was for his brother.

"Dean stop."

Dean actually rocked back a few more times before the voice registered. The moment he stopped a hand grasped his, stilling the motion of his hand. Instinctively, he'd been twisting and turning his hands in the cuffs, fighting to free himself.

"Easy, Dean," Sara rasped, her voice was so low he barely recognized it.

A moment later, Dean heard a faint click as his right hand suddenly came free. Determined to get himself under control, he dropped his head to his chest as Sara worked to unlock his other wrist. His need to find Sam was second only to his relief at having Sara near. As his other hand fell free, he stood and turned. With one arm he pulled her to him, crushing her against his chest. He held tight as her arms snaked around his waist and she pressed her face against his chest.

They stood that way for a moment, as he focused on the feel of her in his arms. Regardless of what came next Sara was safe and in his arms, for the moment that was enough. At last, he released her, pushing her back he struggled to contain his anger as he took in her abused face. He'd seen her earlier but his fleeting glimpse hadn't been enough to really see her injuries, unlike now.

"Damn, Sara." He breathed as he traced one finger over the bruises on her neck. He could clearly make out the fingerprints Gordon had left behind. He now understood just why her voice had been so low. The pain in her throat must be incredible. Careful not to add to it, he traced his finger up her neck to her jaw line. The red welt that ran the length of her jaw and radiated upward would most likely be the darkest of purples by tomorrow. Her lip was split in two places and her left eye was swelled nearly shut. He felt a moment's relief that she was wearing her glasses, he couldn't imagine how much it would hurt to have to pry that eye open to remove a contact. He ran his fingers up her cheek and carefully prodded the lump that stood out at her hairline. Her gasp told him just how bad it hurt.

"Sorry," he muttered as he dropped his hand to her shoulder. Guilt swelled as she stared up at him, fear twisting her features.

"Where's Sam? Where's Gordon?"

As she rasped out questions, faster than he could answer them, he struggled for control. He knew he needed to go, to help Sam and find Gordon, but the idea of leaving Sara hurt more than any physical abuse he'd suffered. "Sam..." Dean's voice trailed off as he looked over his shoulder and out the kitchen window. Nodding toward the window he said, "Sam's out there somewhere, Gordon went after him." Dean watched as the fear drained out of Sara's face only to be replaced with anger.

"What are we waiting for, let's go get the bastard." Sara turned toward the dining room.

Her movement threw Dean off for a minute, slow to react she was already through the archway before Dean snagged the back of her shirt and yanked her back. He was expecting her anger, he wasn't expecting her cry of pain. Gathering her against him once more, he ran his hands lightly down her sides. "What's wrong? What did he do?" Sara only struggled for a minute before she relaxed against Dean.

"It's nothing, I think he bruised a couple ribs." Sara turned in his arms, fear and anger seemed to be her warring emotions. "We have to get him, Dean. Now. He knows too much, he could find the kids, my parents, even Brian," she pleaded.

"We're not going anywhere, Sara. You're going to take the Jeep and run. Go to your folks. I can't do what needs to be done if I'm worried about you." Dean's voice left no room for argument. Well at least that's what he thought. Sara's opinion apparently differed.

"Oh, you're going to handle everything, huh? Is that it, I'll just get in the way. Like I got in the way by un-cuffing you. Like I got in the way by distracting Gordon so you could get upstairs. Yeah, I can see what a liability I've been so far." Sara's anger was palpable, her brows were lowered, her lips thinned and her jaw was clenched tight. All of this Dean could ignore. It was the fear he read in her eyes that stopped him from berating her. He had brought this down on her, he was the cause of that fear. As if her life wasn't hard enough he'd left her vulnerable to the evil that stalked him daily. For that, there should be no forgiveness. He needed to push her away, for her own safety and his sanity he needed her gone. He knew of only one way to ensure that.

Ignoring the throb in his head that echoed the pain in his heart, Dean bent over and put a shoulder to Sara's middle, and then lifted her up and over his shoulder. He knew he was causing her pain, hell, her small hard fists thudding against his back were causing him pain, but he also knew he had little choice. Careful not to jostle her anymore than necessary he ignored her protests and headed out of the kitchen toward the garage.

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"Put me down. I swear to god, Dean put me down now or so help me, I'll-"

Sara's threat was cut off with a gasp as Dean slapped a hand to her rear and said, "Quiet".

Tears of frustration threatened to overwhelm her as she continued to struggle. Dean was right, screaming like a fishwife wouldn't help anyone, and it wouldn't stop Dean from acting like an ass. As he hauled her through the dining room, skirting around the overturned table, she tried a different tact. Allowing the tears to fall, she began sobbing. It was almost frightening how easy it was for the day's struggles to overwhelm her, one moment she was faking and the next she was out of control. The worst was the pain in her throat, every sob that ripped through her increased the ache.

As he pulled open the door to the garage, she allowed herself to acknowledge it wasn't working. With effort she regained control, little by little her sobs turned to sniffles as he struggled to open the Jeep's door while maintaining his grip.

"Dean don't do this, don't. I won't go, there's nothing you can do that will make me leave," Sara threatened as he dropped her into the driver's seat.

She couldn't tear her eyes away from him as he met her gaze. His eyes were dead, the ever present spark that was such a part of him was gone. Instead, they were dull and lifeless, his full lips thinned, and his jaw clenched. "Dean, please?" Was the best she could do. She knew it was bad when her plea changed nothing.

"Sara, go. Go home to your family. Just stay away for a couple days. You have my word that when you return Gordon'll be gone, it'll be as if this never happened." His eyes remained locked on hers, his voice and face void of emotion.

His last words crashed through her, his meaning clear. It wasn't only Gordon's appearance in her life he would erase. "No, please Dean, No." Sara wasn't even sure what she said, she only knew the tears began again.

Dean backed up a step careful to stay out of her grasping reach and shook his head. "I should have done this from the first. I wanted to, but I allowed Sam to cloud my judgment. I knew how desperately he wanted a home and you offered us one. It was wrong to take advantage and I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you or your family." Dean's gaze never wavered, his flat blank stare met hers without a glimmer of life.

As she searched his face for some flicker of hope she turned his words over and over in her mind. He'd never wanted her, she was just part of the package, another piece of apple pie normal for Sam to enjoy. Somehow, the thought didn't surprise her. After all, she of all people knew just what Dean was willing to do to make Sam happy. Even if that meant tying himself to an older woman, a woman with so much baggage in her life she could barely carry it all. She was so stupid to think that a man like Dean would have wanted her, her and everything that came with her.

"Just go, Sara."

Sara very nearly argued, it was the sound of gunfire that brought her to her senses. She couldn't do this. Sam was in danger. She wouldn't do this. She was strong. She could do this. She could give him what he wanted, even if it meant the end of her world. Careful to avoid meeting his eyes she nodded and croaked, "Go find Sam." She reached over, ignoring the pain in her ribs, and opened the glove box. It took only a moment to find the spare key she kept there.

"Just open the door and as soon as it's high enough you get out. I'll keep Gordon busy. Go to your kids, Sara, they need you. I don't," he said as he slammed the car door.

Sara wasn't sure how she managed it but, she pressed the garage door opener and started the Jeep. The hardest part was shifting, her hands were shaking so bad she was having trouble gripping the shifter. A quick glance out her rearview showed Dean darting outside gun in hand. Sara didn't bother to wait for Dean to engage Gordon. She simply put the jeep in reverse and tore out of the garage, swinging into the turn-around she changed gears and headed up the drive.


	11. Chapter 11

Dean ignored the Jeep as it tore out of the garage. He could do nothing else. His world had just come crashing down and he had no one to blame but himself. At the sound of another shot, a sense of duty flooded his veins. No, his world hadn't ended, it had just shrunk a bit. Sam still needed him, and by the sound of it, needed him now. He refused to watch the jeep as it made its way up the drive, he had a job to do, and for now it was enough.

Sam needed him, was the litany he lived by. For a while, he'd allowed his world to expand a bit, to include Sara and her family. It had helped to ease the void his father had left. Hell, if he were honest with himself it went much deeper than that. Sara had made his whole life better, she'd given him everything he'd ever dreamed of in one perfect package. A place to call home, three beautiful kids, and her heart, and how did her repay her? By throwing it all back in her face.

Dean felt physically sick. Over the years, he'd always been smart enough to avoid situations like this. He'd made sure the only relationships he had were skin deep. He'd protected himself and the woman involved by making his intentions clear. No commitments, no morning-after calls, hell, most nights he didn't even stay till dawn. His conscience had always been clean, even with Cassie. He'd told her the truth and had dealt with the consequences of her reaction.

However, with Sara everything had been different. She'd accepted him for who he was and had still wanted him. It had been a dream come true, at least until now. Now, here he was months later so tightly wrapped around Sara and her family that the thought of cutting them out of his life was making him nauseous. Dean drew a breath and forced himself to move.

Sammy needed him, as always he drew strength from that thought. One quick glance up the long drive was all he would allow himself, before he took off toward the back yard. He hadn't heard any shots for a while but, he was sure the battle wasn't over. If both men had gone to ground in the surrounding forest, Dean wasn't even sure he'd be able to find them. Sara owned nearly twelve acres and the majority of the land was heavily wooded.

Dean made his way to the back of the house. Careful to remain unseen, he eased his head around the corner and scanned the back yard for signs of either Gordon or Sam. "Shit", he cursed aloud as he watched and waited. He couldn't hear anything that would indicate which direction to look in. Unable to do much else he continued to make his way along the back of the house. He kept watch as he moved, one hand trailing along the wooden-shake siding the other gripping his gun. He knew he was more likely to be spotted rather than spot someone, but he really didn't have much choice. Sara's house was set so that there was little or no cover up against the house. Even the flowerbeds were filled with low-level plants and shrubs, nothing that went higher than his waist.

At last, he came to the patio that led to the French doors. One door swung wide, shards of glass still rimmed the frame, and a scattering of glass covered the ground. Sam, short on time, had shot out the glass rather than fumble with locks. Dean stood his back to the open door and surveyed the yard. He was fairly certain the fight had been taken into the woods. The shots he had heard earlier gave testimony to that. Well, he'd been certain until he heard the thump of feet on the stairs coming from inside the house. Stepping back from the doorframe, he listened hard, straining to determine if it was Gordon or Sam. A smile broke across his face as he recognized the familiar tread.

Dean ducked inside the doorframe and knelt down to wait. It didn't take long. One minute he was staring out the door, trying to pinpoint the sound of gunfire that was coming from the woods and the next, a wet nose was snuffling at his ear. "Hey, there, big guy." Dean affectionately rubbed Jack's ear. The dog bumped up against his back nearly sending him head long out the door. "Easy there, Jack," Dean chided as he stood, one hand on Jack's collar. Though he didn't want to expose Jack to danger, Dean knew the dog was the fastest way to track Sam. Decision made, Dean released Jack's collar and said, "Find, Sam."

The dog never hesitated, his nose to the ground he trotted out the door. Dean broke into a jog and followed, careful to stay close. He couldn't help but feel like a target as they made their way toward the forest. It didn't help that Jack's bright white coat was more suited to a snowy environment. The animal stood out against the green of the forest like a polar bear would have. The other problem was his lumbering tread. Though, Dean moved with little to no noise, Jack sounded like, well, he sounded like a polar bear crashing through the woods. Dean had no doubt with all the noise they were making they'd find someone. It was simply a question of who?

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Sam ducked as a bullet tore a hunk out of the tree he stood in front of. Sam dodged behind the tree, thankful to have something solid between him and Gordon's shots. After exiting the house, he'd headed straight for the woods intending to lose Gordon. It hadn't worked quite as well as he'd hoped. The thick forest had provided cover, but, it had also slowed Sam down. If he ran blindly through the trees, uncaring of the noise he made, it was too easy for Gordon to track him. However, if he slowed down too much, he got nowhere and Gordon could still track him. Either way, Sam seemed destined to face off with the other hunter.

He was pretty sure he had one thing going for him. The tiny 9mm handgun Gordon was using was obviously made for self-defense, not for firing accurately at any kind of distance. Sam wasn't sure why Gordon was using the mousegun, but he wasn't about to complain. The weapon's lack of accuracy and power was definitely working in Sam's favor.

Sam straightened a bit and fired toward Gordon, keeping the hunter at bay as he continued to make his way through the forest. He was staying pretty much parallel with the house. He was hoping to hit the stream that cut through the corner of Sara's property. The small waterway, though shallow, made a fairly clear path. Sam figured it'd be his best opportunity to make some time. If he managed to hit the clearing before Gordon, Sam would have a better chance of losing him allowing him to hopefully double back on the other hunter. Sam was sick of being chased, he was ready to do a little hunting of his own.

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Bobby's glance flickered between the road and the cell phone that sat on the seat next to him. He'd told Sam one hour and here it was nearly two hours later and he'd yet to hear from the younger man. "Stubborn Jackass," Bobby mumbled, not bothering to specify. After all, both Winchester's, with their mile-long stubborn streaks and willingness to martyr themselves, were pretty much interchangeable as far as he was concerned. As he pushed down on the accelerator, the truck's well-kept engine responded to the touch with a growl and an increase in speed. Bobby knew he was driving too fast for the winding road but he couldn't help but feel as if time was running out.

He had hated having to be the one to explain to Sara's parents that their daughter was in danger. In fact, he'd glossed over as much as he could, leading them to believe it was something supernatural in nature rather than human. He figured when you added their limited knowledge of what goes bump in the night, with the fact that no one wanted the police involved, it was the easiest explanation. As an added bonus when Gordon was finished, and Bobby had no doubt the other hunter would be finished, they could dispose of him with no one the wiser. After all, Gordon, crazy as he was, was not without friends in the hunting community. Friends that would seek revenge when this was all over and done. Yeah, as far as Bobby was concerned this was a secret best kept between him, the brothers, and Sara.

Bobby slowed before he reached Sara's drive. Though, her driveway was long, he didn't want to risk tipping Gordon off. He pulled off into a neighboring drive and came to a stop near the Impala. He leaned over and opened the glove box, grabbing the gun that rested inside. Earlier, he'd tucked it away so he wouldn't scare the kids. For all that the children were surrounded by hunters, Sara did her best to keep them from becoming too involved. She had been firm in her insistence that the kids were too young to deal with the reality and honestly, Bobby, Dean, and Sam had fully agreed.

Each one of the hunters had their own reasons for wanting to maintain the kid's innocence. For Bobby, it was the similarities between Sara's kids and the Winchester boys. He'd stood by and watched as John had destroyed every bit of innocence left in Dean, and to a lesser extent Sam, after Mary's death. Whether or not John was justified, given just what the brother's would face in their lives, was a question Bobby still wasn't sure of. However, that didn't mean he didn't wish things had been different for Sam and Dean. With Sara's children, he had no interest in introducing them to reality. Though, after everything they'd been through today he wondered if it was out of his control.

Bobby shook off his thoughts and climbed out of the battered blue truck. He stood for a moment, taking stock of his surroundings. He had a fairly clear view of the house from here and he studied it for a moment. As he watched, the garage door went up. Unsure of what he was watching, Bobby readied himself. He knew if it were Gordon, he would have to kill the man, rather than let him leave. He didn't want to think about what it meant for Sam and Dean if it was Gordon.

Gaze pinned to the garage door, Bobby watched as Sara's Jeep swung out of the garage. Unsure of who was driving, Bobby took off at a run for the end of Sara's drive. He needed to stop whoever it was, he couldn't afford to let Gordon slip away. Careful to stay out of sight, Bobby waited as the Jeep approached. As he broke cover, Bobby lifted his gun and trained it on the driver. Two things happened at once. First Bobby realized it was Sara, dropping his gun he breathed a sigh of relief at the younger woman's battered face. Second, she very nearly hit him. Only years of hunting allowed him to jump out of her way at the last minute.

With a screech of brakes, and the smell of burnt rubber, the Jeep shuddered to a halt. Bobby heard a curse and a car door slam as he picked himself up and off the asphalt. As he stood, he was very nearly knocked over again by Sara as she grabbed him in a bear hug. "Whoa there, honey," Bobby said as he returned the younger woman's hug. Sara kept her arms wrapped tight her face buried in his chest. Bobby could feel the shudders that wracked her frame and he wondered just how much she'd suffered in Gordon's hands. He was torn between giving comfort, to the woman that clung to him so fiercely, and demanding to know what was wrong. This wasn't like Sara, not the Sara he knew. The woman he'd come to know so well over the last three years was strong, unshakable and too proud to reach out for help, no matter how badly she might need it.

Bobby unable to wait any longer wrapped his hands gently around her forearms, eliciting a gasp from Sara. He loosened his grip and stepped back a bit, trying to see Sara's face. When she just stood, arms hanging at her sides, her chin tucked against her chest, Bobby suddenly began to fear for the Winchesters. It was the only thing, in his mind, that justified Sara's response, or well lack of. "Sara what's going on? Where're the boys?"

As she continued to ignore him, his fear became palpable. He reined in his emotions, sure now, in his heart that one or more of the boys was hurt. He didn't want to hear her response, but, he knew he had to. If one of the brother's was hurt or even worse, facing off against Gordon alone, then Bobby needed to be there. He tucked a finger under Sara's chin and gently lifted her face. He couldn't help but flinch in sympathy as she allowed him to raise her battered face. "Ah, damn, Sara." Though, there seemed to be no permanent damage Bobby had to admit the girl had been worked over hard.

"Sara, I need to know what's going on? Where's Sam?" Bobby started with Sam simply because he figured it would be easier. Though, Sara would be devastated if something had happened to Sam, Bobby was sure it wouldn't reach this catatonic state. He couldn't help but feel something must be wrong with Dean. Bobby shied away from what could have happened to the older Winchester to upset Sara this much. He could no longer tolerate her silence, her emotionless stare, needing a response, he gripped her arms once more and shook her gently. "Sara," he said in a stern voice.

The shake seemed to be the catalyst she needed. Her eyes seemed to focus on him, a rush of color flooded her cheeks, rivaling her bruises in it's intensity. "What are you doing here, Bobby? You're supposed to be with the kids." Sara's voice was low and almost painful to hear.

Bobby blamed it on the bruises that encircled her neck. Reaching out with one hand, he gripped her shoulder. "They're fine. I left them with your parents. I had to see what was happening here."

Sara nodded, wrapping her arms around her middle she hugged herself. "Gordon's in the woods, looking for Sam. Dean was heading after them." Here her voice faltered. "He told me to go." Bobby very nearly missed the last whispered words. He stared at her for a moment, turning over what she'd said. Though, being tracked through the woods by Gordon was by no means a good thing, it surely wasn't as dire as she was making it out to be. Then her last statement sunk in.

"He told you to go?" Bobby questioned, comprehension slamming into him. Well, damn, now he understood. Dean had finally done it, he'd cut Sara out of his life. Over the last year, Bobby had feared this would happen. He knew both Sara and Dean well enough to know they lived their lives for the people they loved. In Dean's case, his knee-jerk reaction to endangering the ones he loved the most, was to take himself out of the equation. What he didn't seem to realize was the hole he left behind would be worse than any monster, human or otherwise, that Sara could ever face. "Dammnit," Bobby swore, he really could knock Dean down for his stupidity.

Gunshots from the house below, reminded Bobby of just what his priority needed to be. He ducked a bit, low enough to stare Sara in the face. "Sara, listen to me. I need to go help the boys. You need to get out of here. Go to your parents." Bobby wanted to howl in frustration at the listless nod she gave him, or better yet, shoot Dean for his carelessness. Unfortunately, he didn't have time for either as more shots came from below. He carefully shoved Sara toward her Jeep urging her to hurry.

The sound of gunfire seemed to wake her up a bit, she dug her heels in just before the driver's side door of the Jeep refusing to move. Bobby ground his teeth in frustration. He was tempted to simply lift her up and throw her into the driver's seat. Instead, he released her and pleaded in a low growl, "Go, Sara".

Sara turned to watch the house once more, her eyes scanning the wooded property that was spread out below them. "I don't want to go till I know they're safe," Sara rasped.

Bobby stared down at Sara's house. It sat nestled in the valley, her land radiating outward. They had a fairly good view, just not good enough, Bobby thought with a sigh, as he couldn't see any movement through the trees below. He debated sending her away, though he wasn't sure just how he'd accomplish that if she was determined to stay. He nodded toward the Jeep. "Fine, you can stay if you promise to stay up here." His eyes narrowed and he glared. He knew it was a wasted look, but he couldn't help but hope it would intimidate Sara into staying put.

She nodded solemnly her eyes trained to the property below. "I won't come down I promise." Her monotone voice did more to convince Bobby than her words. He wondered just what Dean had said that would drive someone as loyal as Sara away. As tears began to flow down her cheeks, he found himself glad he didn't know. "You just stay here, Kid. Thing's will work themselves out when this is over." Though, Bobby said the words, he found he really didn't believe them. Sara simply nodded and climbed back into the jeep. She sat sideways with the door open wide her glance pinned to the scene below. Bobby left her sitting there wishing he could do more.

888

Sam burst through a stand of trees and stumbled into the stream. Barely able to stop his momentum, he breathed a sigh of relief even as he cursed his now soaked shoes. Following the stream bank, he took advantage of a deer path he'd found. Even though, at times his height caused him to get snagged on low trees, he was able to increase his speed as he'd planned. As he continued down the path following the stream, he tried to keep Sara's property in mind. Her land backed on State Game land on two sides and near as Sam figured, he was pretty much straddling her property line. Unsure of exactly how far he'd gone, he decided it had to be far enough. He darted off the path and began to make his way through the underbrush once more. As branches tugged and pulled at his clothing and skin, and rocks and roots threatened to trip him up he began to slow. He needed to get back to Sara's, he needed to draw Gordon back out into the open. For once, he was thankful for Gordon's insanity. After all, it was sure to keep the older hunter on Sam's trail regardless of the danger to himself. Gordon had lost what little hold on reality he'd ever had, of that Sam was sure. In fact, Sam was banking on it. With Gordon lost to his emotions, he was more likely to make mistakes, mistakes that would favor the Winchesters.

Sam slowed, focusing on his surroundings he tried to judge just how close to the house he'd gotten. As he came to a stop, he spared a thought for his brother. Far as he knew, Dean might still be tied up in the kitchen. Sam pushed away the worry of what would happen if Gordon found it too hard to keep track of him. Would he return to the house, to Dean? He refused to dwell on the thought. After all, Sam was fairly sure that when Gordon had left the house, Dean had still been okay, restrained, but okay. And really, Sam thought, a slight smile breaking through his worry, there was really little chance his brother was still there. Dean was second only to Houdini for escaping.

Sam's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of something large moving through the forest. He quickly found a thicket and hunched down, his gaze locked toward where the noise was coming from. He was fairly sure it wasn't Gordon. The other hunter might be crazy, but he wasn't dumb. There was no way he'd give himself up like that. To Sam it sounded like some kind of animal. His imagination conjured a fleeting image of a bear, big and black, lumbering it's way through the forest. As the animal broke into the clearing, Sam realized he hadn't been too far off.

"Jack." Sam exclaimed stepping out into the clearing as the dog ran toward him. Sam, as always, very nearly side stepped the animal as he came to a lumbering halt only inches away. It was always hard for Sam to stand still when Jack was bearing down on him. Though, he knew it wasn't going to happen, Sam always waited for the big dog to knock him down in his exuberance. Jack never did though, he always stopped, leaving Sam feeling slightly guilty for not trusting him. Jack unable to control himself bumped his head against Sam all the while growling in happiness. Sam reached down and stroked the dog's big head, careful to avoid the knot that sat above his eye. He was thankful to find the big dog alive and well, he'd been worried that Gordon had killed him.

A moment, later Sam heard someone else making their way through the brush. One glance at Jack let Sam know there was nothing to worry about. The dog's happy little growls continued and his tail was thumping so hard against Sam's leg it actually hurt. He continued to fuss over Jack as he waited to see who would burst through the clearing. Sam was figuring it was Bobby, but he was hoping for Dean. At last, Sam could make out the figure jogging toward him, a big grin on his face.

"Thank God, Sam. I was starting to think the bump on Jack's head had done some permanent damage. We've been all over this forest." Dean complained as he reached Sam's side.

Though, his voice was full of irritation, it didn't escape Sam's notice that Dean was petting Jack. "Well, makes sense, I've been all over the forest," Sam said his voice full of complaint. Really, despite the years spent training and hunting in similar situations, neither Winchester had ever enjoyed the outdoors. "And before you say it, No, I 'm not lost," Sam snapped, cutting off Dean's next words.

Dean's grin showed Sam just how close to the mark he was. Regardless of his words, Sam couldn't help but return his brother's smile. There was just something about Dean's smile that begged to be answered.

"Where's Gordon?" The brother's overlapping voices broke the silence between them.

Sam shrugged. "I thought he was following me, but if you haven't come across him..." Sam's voice trailed off.

"Yeah, well the big guy here doesn't exactly move in stealth mode. It would have been no problem for him to avoid us."

Sam nodded, his eyes searching the surrounding area. "Yeah, I heard you coming a mile away. How'd you get free?"

Dean's smile slid off his face. As Sam watched, his eyes turned hard and his jaw clenched. Dean suddenly looked as if his world had ended. "What's wrong?"

Sam watched as Dean shut him out. Eyes shuttered, the older hunter turned from Sam and stared out into the forest. When he finally answered, his tone seemed hollow, "Sara freed me."

Sam started in surprise. "Sara? I sent her home hours ago. How'd she get back into the house?"

"So do you have a plan?"

It didn't go unnoticed by Sam that Dean was dodging his question. Not that Sam was surprised. He knew his brother well enough to recognize the signs. Dean was hurting and no amount of talking would help. The good thing was Sam knew what would help, at least for the here and now.

"Well, I planned on leading Gordon back to the house so I can shoot him," Sam stated, his tone matter-of-fact.

Though, the grin never reached his eyes, Dean's smile was contagious. "That's your plan, huh?"

Sam nodded his own grin nearly rivaling his brother's. "Yup, that's about it."

"Well, hell, that works for me."


	12. Chapter 12

"Do you see him?" Sam's whisper was so low Dean nearly missed the question.

"Not yet." Dean kept his gaze focused on the house, one hand resting on Jack's warm back. The big dog had done good, he'd led them back to the house in record time. As they'd approached the house Jack had begun growling. Not the happy go lucky growl Dean was used to but a deep-throated rumble that made Dean thankful the animal liked him. Dean was sure the dog sensed Gordon and in truth Dean's instincts agreed. Gordon wasn't out stumbling through the forest and he hadn't taken off on foot. No, he was there in the house.

As Dean contemplated going closer, he saw a shadow pass by the garage window. If he wasn't already convinced Gordon was inside, he would have figured he'd imagined it. "Garage", he breathed for Sam's benefit.

"He's trying to run, He's gotta realize we've got him now," Sam said his words laced with anger.

Dean grinned, his face threatening to split in two. "Yeah, well, jokes on him, I locked all the doors and tossed the keys." Sam's answering snicker only served to increase Dean's already wide grin.

"Sam, I want him." Dean stated as his face turned grim. Dean said no more trusting Sam to understand, he knew his younger brother was weighing the situation.

Dean was confident of the outcome. Sam, though mad as hell at Gordon, simply wasn't a killer, at least, not of humans. And, as twisted as Gordon Walker was, he was still human. Sam despite his intentions might inadvertently allow Gordon the chance to escape. That in turn would put Sara and her family in even more danger. Dean watched as Sam came to the same conclusion.

"Fine. I'll stay back, but, don't expect me to stay out of it if he gets the upper hand." Sam's gaze turned fierce. "I'm not willing to stand by and watch him kill you, just so you can have the privilege of beating the crap out of him.

Dean nodded, knowing it was the best he could hope for. "Fine, just remember to stay back. I plan on enjoying myself and I don't want you jumping in." Dean nodded toward the garage and moved out confident Sam would follow.

Although, he knew his brother had his back he didn't intend to involve Sam. For whatever reason, Gordon had latched onto Sam with the tenacity of a pit bull, and Dean saw no reason to tempt the man into going directly for Sam. No, Dean's plans involved Gordon going through him, it's what Dean was for, after all. To be the wall between Sam and the world, he'd taken on the job at an early age and he'd never faltered. Even when Sam had told their father he was leaving for school, Dean had stood between his father and Sam. Out and out siding with his brother for the first time in a long line of never ending fights between his father and brother. Unlike his father, Dean had seen many advantages to Sam's going off to school, the first and foremost being he'd finally be safe. It had never occurred to Dean that their life would follow Sam and would eventually touch the normal world he so craved, bringing it crashing down around him. Once Sam returned, it had taken no time at all for Dean to fall once more into the protector he'd always been. In this instance, that meant Dean would take care of Gordon, he'd be the one to pull the trigger. Dean's grin surfaced briefly once more, not, however, before he got a little payback.

Dean sprinted across the open ground in a flash Jack loping by his side. He was careful to stay out of sight of the garage. He had a pretty good idea of just what Gordon would be going through right now. The other hunter had probably already realized his car was locked and the keys were gone. Unwilling to leave the car behind, whether for sentimental reasons or because it was proof he'd been there, he was probably in the middle of trying to pick the lock.

Dean made it to the side of the house, a second later Sam reached his side. Communicating, using only his eyes, Dean watched, as Sam nodded in understanding and took off around the side of the house. Dean took a knee and softly commanded the dog to stay. He didn't want Jack anymore involved than he already was. Jack promptly dropped to the ground, his breath coming out in a huff. Confident the animal would stay, Dean moved out. One hand trailed across the siding of the house, the other gripping his gun. Careful to duck low under the windows, he neared the end of the garage. He edged his way around the corner, keeping an eye, as well as an ear, out for any noise that would mark the other hunter. A low soft curse came from the garage. Dean couldn't help but grin. Car locks were a bitch to pick when you had the right tools. When attempted with common items found in a garage it became near impossible.

Dean readied himself to move, confident that he was better armed and had the jump on the other hunter. In one swift motion he turned and faced the interior of the garage. Gordon knelt by the side of his car, a tool in hand, just as Dean expected. What Dean hadn't expected was for his image to reflect in the El Camino's side view mirror, tipping Gordon off.

Gordon turned and dove, rolling across the empty space where the Jeep once sat. He was unable to get a shot off before Gordon disappeared under the van. Dean very nearly fired anyway, the only thing that stopped him was the thought of just how upset Sara'd be if he shot up her van. Dean ducked back outside and growled at his own stupidity.

"Couldn't shoot the van, huh?" Sam questioned from the far end of the garage door opening.

Dean practically snarled his answer, "It'd be like shooting the friggin' dog. She'd be heartbroken." At the words heartbroken, a spasm of guilt threatened to break him. Refusing to give in, he called out, "Gordon, come on out. It's over, you lost." As Dean spoke he wondered what he'd do if Gordon did surrender. The thought of allowing the skilled hunter to go back to prison only to have him escape again strengthened Dean's resolve.

"Now, why would I want to go and do something dumb like that, Dean?" Gordon's low voice called out.

Dean traded glances with Sam, seeing his brother's shrug, Dean focused once more on the spot where Gordon had disappeared. "So, what's it gonna be, Gordon. You're trapped, we know you've got nothing but that pea shooter. Just come on out and take your beating."

"Please, Dean, way I figure it we're one for one. What makes you so sure I'd be the one takin' the beating?"

Dean heard the challenge in Gordon's voice and responded to it. Thrashing Gordon to within an inch of his life and then putting a bullet in his brain sounded like the most fun Dean'd had in a while. "Toss that miserable excuse for a gun out here, and we'll talk," he answered purposely ignoring Sam's angry hiss.

The clatter of a gun sliding across the concrete floor was Gordon's only answer. Dean edged his way around the corner once more. He was confident Gordon was without a gun. Earlier the other hunter had left the kitchen unarmed, and Dean figured the gun he'd been using ever since had been strapped to an ankle holster. A scan of the floor showed Gordon's handgun near the rear tire of the El Camino. Dean eased out of hiding, his gun trained on Gordon. In a blink, he bent down and picked up the gun, a flick of the wrist sent the weapon soaring toward Sam.

"Come on out, Gordon," Dean called as he tossed his own gun to Sam.

"What's to keep little Sammy there from taking a shot?" Gordon called as he peered over the edge of Sara's van.

"It's Sam," Sam stated, his voice making it clear just how much he'd relish putting a bullet in Gordon's black heart.

"Sam'll play nice. He wouldn't want to spoil my fun." Dean waited, legs slightly apart, his arms hanging loosely at his side.

Gordon came out in a rush, catching Dean with a shoulder to the ribs. Both men toppled to the ground. Gordon gained his feet first. But, before he could act, Dean swept one leg out knocking Gordon down. In a moment, the tables had turned and Dean was straddling Gordon's chest, throwing punches fast and furiously.

Gordon bucked, his efforts just enough to throw Dean off balance. In that instant Gordon was back on his feet, one arm grabbing Dean's wrist. Dean felt himself jerked through the air only to slam into the side of the van. Pain radiated up his back as he made contact with the vehicle.

Forcing down the pain, he rebounded off the car, and slammed into Gordon. The other hunter smashed back against the Chevy and Dean moved to take advantage. Two quick, hard elbows to Gordon's mouth turned the hunters face into hamburger. Dean was unrelenting, following up the elbows with a couple rock hard punches to the gut. The force of the last bow doubled Gordon over. Dean reached down and grabbed two fistfuls of Gordon's plaid shirt and drew the other hunter upright.

He never saw the knife that gleamed faintly in the dim light of the garage, he only felt the white-hot pain as Gordon drove it home.

888

Sam wanted to yell in frustration as Dean and Gordon faced off. As far as he was concerned, this wasn't necessary. Dean should have simply done what needed to be done and left it at that. Extracting his pound of flesh, while helping Dean to get over his anger, really wasn't the best of plans. Sam winced and nearly darted forward as Dean hit the ground hard. A second later though and Gordon was the one kissing concrete. Back and forth, they exchanged punches with Dean clearly getting the upper hand.

Sam never saw the knife until it was too late. One minute, Dean was clearly in control and the next his brother was on the ground. Gordon straddled Dean, a knife held in his hands. Sam's eyes darted away from the sight of the silver knife already dark with his brother's blood.

"When will you learn, Winchester? Not everyone plays fair," Gordon hissed his breath rasping in and out of his ruined mouth.

Sam took aim, hoping he wasn't too late..

888

Bobby had been scouring the woods, looking for signs of Gordon or the boys. Finally, he'd double backed toward the house, intending to search Sara's home. That had been the plan, at least until he saw Dean slugging it out with Gordon. As he watched the fight from a distance, he became disgusted with what was obviously a pissing contest between Gordon and Dean. Bobby headed for the garage cursing the Winchesters and their stupid pride.

As Bobby approached, it looked as if Dean was winning. Then just like that, Dean went from winner to loser as Gordon pulled a knife from somewhere and plunge it into Dean's side. As Bobby watched, Gordon took advantage and slammed Dean to the floor. Bobby reached Sam's side just as the younger hunter drew a bead on Gordon.

"Shoot him, Sam," Bobby called out, hoping to shock the younger Winchester into taking the shot.

An instant later, there was a loud rapport as a small black hole appeared above Gordon's right eye. The man dropped to the side, the knife he'd held falling from his hands. Bobby and Sam were frozen in place for only a second before darting forward to help Dean.


	13. Chapter 13

Sam leaned against the doorframe his gaze taking in the room before him. So much had changed since he'd first stayed her. Now the plain cream-colored walls were filled with drawings the kids had made, all addressed to him and Dean. The top of the bureau no longer held a single vase of flowers. Instead, there were bottles of deodorant, aftershave and even a small dish that Jimmy had made in school. Tucked into the mirror above, were pictures of the kids in various settings, school pictures, holidays and Sam's favorites, small random moments in the kids lives. Sam's gaze moved toward his own bed, he smiled over the dark blue crocheted blanket that always rested on top and the small worn out bunny that lay near his pillow. Mike had given him the bunny, claiming that the one eyed creature was a master at keeping bad dreams away. Sam wasn't sure whether it was the bunny or not, but he never had nightmares here. It was as if this house and its occupants were protected by something so bright and pure, it kept the darkness at bay. At least until today.

"Sara, you need to get some sleep." Sam said as he moved toward Dean's bed. His brother lay against the white sheets a blanket pulled up to his chin. Lucky for Dean, Gordon hadn't done any real damage. Though sore and weak with blood loss, he shouldn't have any problem recuperating from the wound and subsequent stitches. Which left Sam to wonder why, nearly twelve hours after the stabbing his brother was still asleep.

"I'm fine, Sam," Sara said, the tremble in her voice giving lie to her words.

If Sam were honest, he'd admit that Sara looked like the more likely candidate for bed rest. She sat on a wooden rocking chair she'd pulled up next to Dean's bed. She was hugging herself, her gaze fixed on Dean's bruised and battered face. Her own face was a rainbow of colors, ranging from deep purple to a sickly shade of green. For Sam, the hardest of her injuries to look at were the clear finger imprints Gordon had left around her throat. Sam's jaw clenched in anger as he considered just how much damage Gordon had done.

"You need to eat, maybe have Bobby look you over. I know you're hurting." Sam himself had already gotten a couple hours sleep, a shower, and a bite to eat, while waiting for his brother to wake up.

"No I'm fine, I just want to wait till he wakes up. Then I'll get cleaned up." Sara's voice was a near whisper, her words so rough they made Sam's throat ache in sympathy.

Another glance toward Dean and Sam made a decision. Quickly, not giving her a chance to complain, Sam swooped down and picked her up from the chair. As he cradled her to his chest, he chided firmly, "You're going to get cleaned up, you're going to eat, and you're going to get some sleep. You have to pick up the kids in the morning. You have responsibilities, Sara." Sam hated himself for pushing, but, he had little choice, it simply wasn't in Sara's nature to give up.

Sam managed to ignore the tears that flooded Sara's eyes at his words. He tried to tell himself it was simply the pain of her injuries, though, in his heart he knew otherwise. Careful not to jostle her, he headed out the bedroom door and walked toward the living room. As he eased her down onto the couch, he called out to Bobby. The older hunter had been busy, carefully wiping away all traces of Gordon, even the hunter's body had been taken care of. The only thing that remained was the car, still parked inside the garage.

"Yeah, Sam?" Bobby questioned as he entered the living room, a broom in his hand.

Sam started to give Bobby orders, starting with feeding Sara when he stopped to look down at her. She'd curled up on her side, her arms still wrapped around her waist, sound asleep. Sam brushed her bangs out of her eyes and stood. "We'll just leave her here, it's as good a place as any. Keep an eye on her. I need to have a talk with my brother."

"See if you can knock some sense into him," Bobby said as he tucked the blanket that Sara kept on the couch around the sleeping woman. "It'll kill her if he leaves."

Sam turned away not bothering to acknowledge Bobby's words. There was no need, they both knew he was right.

888

Sam entered the room once more, taking the seat that Sara had vacated. He carefully drew up the crocheted blanket, a twin to Sam's, and tucked it under Dean's chin. Sam relaxed back in the seat, and picked up the dragon that normally slept on Dean's pillow. Sam figured, in her haste to get the bed ready for Dean, Sara had tossed it to the floor. Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight of the fierce looking dragon he held in his hands. Somehow, it figured Dean had ended up with a mythical creature, while Sam had gotten a bunny. Sam sobered as he remembered the reason Mike had given Dean the dragon. He'd offered Dean the stuffed animal as a replacement for John. According to Michael, the dragon watched over and protected him just like his father would have. When Dean had suggested that Michael keep him, he had simply smiled up at Dean and said, "You're here now. I don't need Dragon anymore."

Mike had instinctively managed to offer the Winchesters what they most needed, Sam a dreamless sleep, and Dean a reminder of how much his father had loved him. Sam wondered if the animal's protection would work outside these walls, or if their magic was tied to Sara and her kids. Sadness filled Sam as his gaze swept over Dean, he had a feeling he was about to find out.

"You can open your eyes, you know. She's gone." Sam's tone sounded harsher than he'd intended. Regardless of Bobby's words, Sam was feeling enough guilt to understand what Dean was doing, even if he didn't agree. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "You can hide from her all you want, Dude. But, I'm not buying it."

Dean's long lashes swept up as he opened his eyes. Sam was unsurprised to find the normally bright green gaze, dulled by pain. It was something Sam hadn't seen in a while. Pain caused by injuries was normal, the pain of doing the right thing, regardless of what it cost, was different. It was a pain Dean had suffered too often in his life.

Dean struggled to sit up, wincing at the pain in his side. Sam couldn't help but notice as his brother's eyes strayed toward the open bedroom door.

Sam answered his unspoken question. "I finally got her to sleep. She's on the couch, Bobby's with her."

"Gordon?" Dean questioned his voice rough with emotion.

"Dead," Sam said, his own gaze avoiding his brother as he spoke.

"I heard a gunshot."

"It was a gunshot, he's dead. Bobby's taken care of everything."

Dean's gaze hardened, anger overtaking all other emotions. "Good. I only wish I'd been the one to put a bullet in him."

Sam nodded, wishing Dean would let it go. No matter how big a bastard Gordon had been, and Sam readily admitted he'd been a big one, he'd still been human. Ending someone's life, regardless of the circumstances, wasn't something you just walked away from. It would have to be dealt with eventually, Sam just didn't want to do it now. "So you gonna tell me why you're hiding from Sara?" Sam asked, though he could hazard a guess.

Dean looked away for a long moment, before finally facing Sam once more. "I'm no good for her," he said with a shrug, wincing a bit at the movement. "She deserves someone that doesn't bring killers into her house. I mean she can forgive me now but, what if one of the kids had gotten hurt? Do you honestly think we'd still be welcome here?"

Sam turned Dean's question over carefully in his mind. He thought about Sara, and just what kind of a person she was, finally he looked up and met Dean's gaze. "I think she'd love you regardless, Dean. This isn't your fault, it's something that happened and it wasn't easy, but Sara truly loves you."

"So, what, Sam, you think that makes me feel better, to think that Sara wouldn't blame me?"

"What I think is that everything is a risk, Dean. What if she was married to a cop, and something happened? Do you honestly think this is any different?"

Dean broke eye contact with Sam and spoke softly, "The difference is, I'm nothing. I don't carry a badge, I don't make $ 40,000 a year with benefits. I'll never get to take her to a picnic with co-workers or go into the kids schools for career day. Hell, I don't even have a name to offer her. I don't belong in her world and I've let it go on too long."

Sam found himself scrambling for the words that would make this better. The problem was, there were no words. Dean had a point, and though Sam knew that Sara didn't agree, Sam himself couldn't help wonder if he was right. "So that's it. We're going to stay here for the next few days while you get your strength up and then we leave. Just like that."

Dean shook his head. "Nope, we'll leave tonight. I've already said goodbye, there's no reason to make it harder on her than it already is."

888

Sara ran, one hand wrapped around her waist, the other gripping a gun. Too late, too late, too late, were the words that drove her to go faster despite the pain in her chest. She wanted to call out a warning, to stop the scene as it unfolded before her, but she couldn't a draw breath. It was the glint of something silver held in his hand that had her stopping. As she lifted the gun she narrowed her focus to one small target, releasing a breath, she squeezed the trigger. She never bothered to see if she hit her mark, the utter lack of noise was answer enough. Instead, she dropped the gun and ran, the stabbing pain in her chest rivaling the pain in her throat.

Finally, she reached him. Dropping to her knees she shoved at the weight that covered him, tears ran down her cheeks, as she at last uncovered him. His face was battered, blood trailed from the small cut over his left eye and his right cheekbone was beginning to swell. Afraid of what she'd find she didn't touch him, instead, she watched and waited. "Too late, too late," were the words she spoke as she looked for some sign of life.

"Sara, honey. Sara, wake up. You weren't too late Sara, he's fine."

Sara fought her way out of the dream, calming as Bobby's low voice broke through her panic. "Bobby, what's wrong?" she asked, unsure of what was happening.

"Nothing, Kiddo, you were having a nightmare that's all." Bobby helped her to sit up, careful of her injuries.

Sara looked about, her confusion clearing as she realized she was in her living room. "How long was I asleep?" She questioned as she struggled to stand. She was already half-way across the room when Bobby's voice stopped her.

"He's still here, Sara. He didn't leave."

As her fear ebbed away so did the last of her strength and slowly she sank to the floor. "He's still here." It was a statement more than a question, she knew that Bobby would never lie to her.

"Yeah, Sam's with him. He's fine." Bobby moved to her side, and reached down a hand.

Sara gratefully accepted, she wasn't sure she could stand on her own. For a moment she stood in the middle of the room, Bobby's arm around her waist and she debated her next move. If only she wasn't so tired. If only she could think clearly, than maybe she could find someway to keep him, to hold on to him, though he was determined to leave her. Sara's thoughts went back to his last words to her, "Go to your kids, Sara, they need you. I don't," he'd said. What if it was true, what if her and her family were holding him back. After all, there was no doubt in her mind that Dean deserved better.

Swallowing hard, afraid she'd break before she could be alone, Sara said, "Help me upstairs, Bobby. I need a shower."

It took nearly ten minutes to shake Bobby. The elder hunter insisted on checking her injuries and only allowed her privacy once he ensured she wasn't going to keel over anytime soon. Little did he know that the moment she hit the warm embrace of the shower she did collapse. She made no noise, a solid year of grieving for her husband with two small children and another on the way had wiped out her ability to really let go. Instead, she lay on the bottom of the tub, the water cascading over her as she allowed her tears to fall. Slowly as the water began to grow cold she allowed herself to make plans. To focus on the tasks she needed to get through, again, it was something her husband's death had taught her.

Forcing herself to stand, she began to get clean, barely noticing the aches and pains that were surfacing. She would deal with all of it tomorrow, was the mantra that kept her going. She would figure out a way to survive without him later, for right now, she had children that needed her. Kids that were going to be devastated by the loss of the two men that had become family. Two men, the thought nearly drove her to her knees once more. It hadn't really sunk in till just now that she'd be losing Sam as well. Sam who'd become her brother as sure as her own flesh and blood. No longer would she hear his booming laugh or watch as he sat with Jim over the younger boy's homework. The tears began anew as Sara contemplated just how empty her life would become without the Winchesters.

Unable to stop shaking now that the water had turned cold, Sara struggled to shut it off. Sliding open the shower door, she climbed out of the tub and grabbed a towel from the rack. As she wrapped the cotton around herself, she sank to the floor once more. She would get moving soon, she had responsibilities. She would survive, her kids depended on her. She could do this, she'd done it before. Just not right now.

888

It took ten minutes of Bobby's near frantic threats to knock the door down, before Sara could force herself from the floor. At last, she gained her feet, shrugging into a thick, white, towel, she responded to Bobby, reassuring him that she was all right. Once she had emerged, she spent the next ten minutes promising him she would get some sleep. As the older hunter left, she slowly climbed onto the bed. Too tired to bother with covers, or even to turn off the lamp that sat on a stand next to her bed, she closed her eyes. A moment later, they popped back open. Regardless of what she'd promised Bobby, she knew sleep was out of her reach. Caught between the nightmare of losing Dean to Gordon's silver knife or watching him walk away from her, Sara didn't dare close her eyes.

So, she lay on her side, her mind unable to shut off, as images from the day played over and again in her mind. It was then she heard a noise from the hallway. At first, flashbacks of Gordon nearly stole her breath, at least until she remembered there were three hunters staying under her roof. Surely, at this moment there wasn't a safer place to be. As the door eased open, Sara couldn't help but close her eyes. Whoever her late night visitor was, she knew it wouldn't be the one she wanted.

"Sara?"

Sara's eye popped open at the sound of her name. She was wrong, her intruder was indeed the one she wanted most. More to the point, he was the only one she'd ever want. "Dean," she breathed, as her heart tried to break free of her chest.

In the dim light of her bedside lamp, Sara watched as he gingerly made his way to her side. Jack trotted alongside him, obviously happy to keep pace in hopes of earning some love. Finally, Dean came to rest at the foot of the bed, one hand wrapped round his middle, the other resting on Jack's solid head.

If Sara had any doubts about why he was here in her room, his expression laid them to rest. "Sit down before you fall down," she chided satisfied that her voice nearly sounded normal.

Dean looked around for a moment as if a chair would materialize saving him from having to sit near her. At last, finding no alternative he gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. What last little shred of hope she'd harbored was destroyed at his obvious reluctance. She lay, resting on her side her feet nearly touching him, and watched his profile as he struggled to find the words. Even now, despite what she knew was coming, she felt the urge to ease his burden. "You said enough, Dean. There's no need for more."

Instead of helping to ease his obvious anxiety as she had hoped, Dean tensed even more. Finally, he said, "I'm sorry for hurting you. You've meant-"

"Just don't. Okay. I'm asking you to not," Sara interrupted unable to listen any longer. She'd thought that this time it would be easier. That the fact the man she loved was walking away rather than being torn from her would lessen the ache. Now, she realized the knowledge that Dean was alive and well, just not with her would actually be even more difficult.

At her words Dean stood, swaying slightly. "I'm sorry. I came up here to tell you we'll be leaving in the morning."

Although, she knew it was inevitable, Sara hadn't realized just how quickly they would go. "But, you can't, your side, you're hurt?"

Dean shifted a bit, his gaze never quite meeting her's. "We have work to do, I'll heal on the road."

Sara knew she had no argument for that, his job was important. "I was going to pick up the kids in the morning."

"You still can, Sam and I'll be long gone before you're up," Dean said, what little color he had left draining from his face at the mention of the kids.

A blaze of anger lanced through Sara at his words. Rolling off the bed, she gained her feet with a gasp of pain. "You're just going to run off in the middle of the night?"

"No, I'm saying goodbye now," Dean stammered confusion evident in his voice.

"The kids, Dean, you can't just walk away from them. Losing you and Sam's going to be hard enough," Sara's voice had gained in volume till she was nearly shouting. As her breath rasped in and out of her chest, the pain from her cracked ribs grew. A feeling of lightheadedness overtook here and black spots began to dance around the edges of her vision. Then a pair of warm arms wrapped around her middle.

Dean's voice rasped in her ear as he pulled her close. "I'm sorry, Sara, so sorry."

Sara found she was unable to pull away, the sincerity in his words helped to ease the ache in her heart. All too soon, he was helping her onto the bed. She wanted to fight as he pulled away but she found the energy to do so was simply beyond her.

"You're right, Sara, I'll stay to say goodbye."

Having won the battle, she could no longer hold herself upright. Ever mindful of her ribs, Sara allowed herself to slump sideways and wriggled onto the big bed. She was done, body, heart and soul, she'd been pushed beyond all endurance in the last two days. As her eyes slid shut, she felt the warm weight of a blanket settle on top of her.

888

Dean wasn't sure how long he stood watching her sleep. He only knew it would never be enough. At last, when his knees began to shake with fatigue and the ache in his side became too much to ignore, he forced himself to leave. As he made his way to the door, Jack followed close on his heels. Dean stopped and dropped a hand onto the animal's warm back, taking comfort in his unending loyalty. Finally, he gestured toward the bed and said, "Up."

The dog hesitated only a moment before climbing up onto the bed and curling up against Sara's back. Satisfied that Jack would stay, Dean gave the room one last glance and left. As he headed down the stairs, careful to avoid the squeaker, he wondered just how he was going to make it through the next day. He had no doubt it would rank as one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. Right up there with driving Sam to the bus station all those years ago. Dean forced back the thought. He'd done what was needed and set Sammy free, surely he'd be able to do it again with Sara's family. It was for the best, it would keep them safe, of that he was certain.

As he came down the stairs he heard Sam's voice coming from the kitchen, releasing his side, Dean straightened to his full height despite the pain. He entered the kitchen and headed straight for the coffee pot. With Bobby in the house, he had no doubt it'd be fresh. Both men were quiet as he poured himself a cup and gingerly took a seat at the table. After taking a sip, he ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh, "Alright, ladies. You got something to say, say it."

Sam didn't even bother to pretend. "We're both sitting here wondering if you realize just what you're giving up?"

Dean stared at the cup in his hand and gathered his response, he needed just the right words. He couldn't fight both his own desires and Sam, he needed his brother on board with him, or at least not bucking him at every stop. At last unable to see any other way around it, Dean answered. "If you could have saved Jess by walking away, would you have?"

Sam's chin dropped, and his gaze became shuttered. His hands wrapped around the mug he held and tightened to the point that Dean was afraid it would burst. At last, with a sigh, Sam stood and headed for the door. "I'm going to get some sleep. I'm driving in the morning, no arguments." With those words, he left, his shoulders slumped with the weight of the world.

"That's a load of horseshit you know?" Bobby said his voice calm and steady as usual.

"Stop, Bobby, I don't want to have this conversation," Dean nearly growled.

"I don't give a rat's ass what you want, Winchester, you're making a mistake."

Dean shook his head. "No, you're wrong, Bobby. I would be selfish to stay. She deserves better than me." Dean's gaze met Bobby's as he uttered these words.

Bobby nodded in agreement. "Oh, trust me, Boy. I have no doubt she deserves better. In point of fact, she deserves the best, but, what she wants is you."

Dean stood suddenly, the pain in his side protesting the movement. He didn't care at the moment, he felt as if he'd scream if he didn't move. "It doesn't matter what she wants, Bobby. It only matters what's best for her."

"No, Dean. That's where you're wrong. It's not up to you to decide what's best. That's her decision and she's proven herself more than capable of making it. If she's willing to live with the consequences then what right have you to say otherwise?" Bobby stopped his tirade, all traces of anger gone. At last he spoke, "You're the best thing that could have happened to her, Dean. She knows it, her kids know it, Hell, even Sammy knows it for all he's willing to follow your lead. Just think about what you're doing, before it's too late."

With these words, Bobby left the room. Dean barely made it to the chair before the quiet sobs broke. Shoulders shaking he laid his head on the table and allowed the tears to flow at last.

888

"Sara, I don't know what to say." Sam's shaggy head hung as he stood before Sara her hands tucked into his.

Sara pulled her hands loose and wrapped her arms around his middle. As she laid her head on his chest, she hugged him hard. "I'm so gonna miss you."

Sam returned the hug, careful not to squeeze too tight. "I'm sorry, if I could change things I would."

Sara nodded, keeping her head pressed against him. She was barely holding on as it was, if she had to look him in the eyes she knew she'd break down. Right now, her one goal was to get through the goodbyes without dropping to the ground and screaming in agony. "You're my family, Sam. I want you to remember that, and if you ever need me, call and I'll come." Sara felt a small measure of pride at just how normal she sounded even though her world was slowly crumbling.

Sam pulled away slightly and gave her just a wisp of a smile. "He'll be okay, Sara. I'll watch out for him. I promise."

Sara dropped her arms, tears flooding her eyes, she couldn't' do this and she'd been stupid to think she could. With a whispered, "Bye, Sam." She raced from the living room. Unsure of where to go, she headed outside. She needed time to regain control, her kids were even now talking with Dean. They would need her of that she had no doubt. She had to get herself under control. Little by little, she managed to stop the tears, wiping at her face with her sleeve. She, at last, headed back into the house determined to hold herself together.

As she neared the brother's bedroom, she stopped at the doorway. Leaning against the jamb, she couldn't help the faint smile at the sight of her kids surrounding Dean and Sam. The Winchester boys sat facing each other, each on their own bed. Jess was sitting on Dean's lap, and Mike was pressed against his side. Jim sat leaning against Sam, his hands turning over Sam's money clip as he listened. They'd survived their ordeal with ease, quickly the entire episode was becoming an adventure rather than something to fear. Sara knew she had Bobby and Sam to thank for this. Both men had gone above and beyond to remove every last trace of the hunter that had invaded their house. And, thanks to some heavy duty make-up'ing and a creative story, they'd even managed to downplay her own injuries. Dean's words caught Sara's attention.

"We don't want to leave, but we have an important job to do. People are depending on us to keep them safe." Dean said, his gaze focused on Jim.

Sam wrapped an arm even tighter around Jim and squeezed. "Don't think we wouldn't rather stay here with you. Because we would, you three are the most important things in the world to us. But, we have to do what's right."

Dean cleared his throat, and exchanged a glance with Sam. "Do you guys understand? We love you, but we can't stay."

Sara found herself jealous of her children for the first time in her life. She had no doubt of the sincerity of Dean's words. She only wished he'd spoken them to her. Drawing a deep breath, well as deep as she could manage, Sara walked into the room and smiled weakly. "It's time for the boys to go, kids."

Sam hugged Jim one last time, dropping a kiss in his closely cropped hair. Sara couldn't hear what Sam whispered to the boy, but, she saw Jim's answering smile. Next, he reached over and pulled Michael toward him, settling the slight boy on his lap. A quick hug, a kiss on the head and Sam again whispered something in Mike's ear. Mike glanced toward her for a moment, and then nodded solemnly at Sam. Sam released him and held his arms out for Jess. The little girl, ever the bane of Sam's existence, threw herself against him. Her chubby little arms wound tight around his neck as she placed a kiss on his cheek. Sara found herself looking away as Sam began to blink away the wetness in his eyes. Pushing the baby away, Sam quickly got to his feet and left the room, only stopping to drop one last kiss on Sara's head. Sara found that despite her own resolutions she couldn't stop the tears from spilling over.

"I want you guys to stay inside, alright. I don't want you coming outside to say goodbye." Dean's voice was void of all its earlier emotion as he made his request.

"Why?" Jim asked suspicion plain on his face.

"Because, I want to remember you here in the house, not outside waving goodbye."

Mike stared up at him for a minute before nodding. "We'll stay here." Jim nodded in agreement and even Jess mimicked her brothers.

Dean nodded and knelt, a hiss of breath the only thing that betrayed his wound. Holding out his arms, he pulled all three kids to him and hugged them. The hug lasted for the longest time, until finally Jess began to squirm. Dean released them and stood, as he walked toward the doorway, his tear filled eyes met Sara's. A harsh, "Take care." Were the only words he spoke as he eased out the door.

Sara very nearly let him go, at the last minute though, she found she just couldn't. Pulling him to a stop, she moved into his arms and hugged him tight. As her arms snaked around his middle, she allowed herself one more perfect moment. Finally, she stepped back with a whispered, "Thank you," and watched him leave.

The end.

Okay, before you all start to hunt me down let me just say this is not the last you've seen of the Power's family. Contrary to what both Dean and Sara think, they will meet again. I plan on posting the story sometime in February, so keep an eye out. Thanks so much to everyone that's read and reviewed the entire series. It's thrilling to know that you guys have enjoyed it – Thanks again K


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